#The Boston Globe Magazine

[biglisbonnews]

The Top 5 Longreads of the Week Today we are featuring stories about the decimation of a national park, the survival of Texas Monthly magazine, how a couple escaped slavery in Boston, choosing when to die, and the future of jelly. 1. In a Famed Kenyan Game Park, the Animals Are Giving Up Georgina Gustin | Undark | January 4, 2023 | […] https://longreads.com/2023/01/20/the-top-5-longreads-of-the-week-449/

#Top 5 #Amboseli National Park #Bettina Makalintal #Boston #Dignitas #Eater #Georgina Gustin #Ilyon Woo #jelly #Kenya #Robin Williamson #Stephen Harrigan #Texas Montly #The Audacity #The Boston Globe Magazine #Undark #Longreads

[thislovintime]

Photo via Pinterest. (While I'm not sure, I'm guessing this might be from Pacific Hills School.)

“Since September he has been teaching English, math, drama, Eastern philosophy and ‘Rock Band Class’ at Pacific Hills, a private secondary school in Santa Monica, Calif. A college dropout, Peter got the job on the strength of his interview with Dr. Penrod Moss, the school’s director. ‘I like to hire people who are independent and creative,’ Moss said. ‘I was impressed by his personality and his ability to speak.’ […] While Tork the musician still has dreams of one day returning to the rock circuit, Thorkelson the teacher is happily planning his next course, ‘Mao, Marx and Mama.’ ‘I’m doing something important,’ he says. ‘I never do anything less than important.’” - People magazine, April 5, 1976 “[Peter] landed a job teaching English, philosophy, drama, math, and a ‘rock band class’ in a private school in nearby Santa Monica in September of 1975. ‘I had no experience, no credentials. Some of the same qualities that got me the Monkees job got me the teaching job,’ Thorkelson said. His abilities to talk and to get along with people are his strongest assets, he added.” - The Bowling Green News, May 24, 1979 "[A]lso, you have to remember that, in this society, teaching is not regarded as a very important pastime by those people in charge of setting budgets and national priorities and that kind of thing. Because if it were, they’d be paid a vastly greater amount of money than they are. Not, you know, double doesn’t begin to get it. Triple, quadruple, that kind of thing maybe. And the fact that teachers are paid as poorly as they are indicates what the priorities are. Nurses make what garbage men make, that kind of thing. It’s not a, you know, it speaks… well… ill, it speaks very poorly and very loudly about our priorities. That’s not my business in the large sense, all I can do is play the games as they are laid out before me. And having some modest influence in the style with which I play them. That seems to be about it.” - Peter Tork, KTRU, August 28, 1983 (x) “I taught English and social studies. And sure, the kids probably saw me as a Monkee, but they got over that in a hurry. Once I lost my temper at the kids, they’d see I was just like all the others — and I probably lost my temper too many times, since I was in an angry state back then. I have a life now, that’s the difference. I have a spiritual core. I’m not Shirley MacLaine but I believe in greater or lesser worlds and consciousness. Most people think of themselves as cut off from each other; others know there’s a connectedness that can be tapped into.” - Peter Tork, The Boston Globe, August 10, 1989 (x) More about Peter teaching in older posts, filed under Tork teaching. There's a New Dimensions High School Alumni public group on Facebook, and in 2019, various alumni recalled their memories of Peter: - "We were lucky to have known him." - Joanie C. H., February 21, 2019 - "Was a wonderful guy and we [were] lucky to have known him." - Alison R., February 21, 2019 - "I was one of the luckiest student[s] the year [Peter] taught music. Peter, let me rock the violin for the graduation ceremony." - Mark L., February 21, 2019 - Another alumni, Ron M., posted a signed note from Peter, reading: "To Ron don't forget what I taught you best of luck Peter Tork ('Mr. Thorkelson' to you)" And, on a 2018 blog post at the Monkees Live Almanac, one former student, Mark, commented: “Best high school teacher I ever had […]. Tremendous empathy.” (x)

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #Tork teaching #70s Tork #long read #<3 #also always so much respect for Peter's unflinching honesty in interviews #1976 #The Boston Globe #KTRU Radio #The Bowling Green News #People Magazine #can you queue it

[garadinervi]

James Joyce, Art direction by Katie Aldrich, Illustration by Vivienne Flesher, The Boston Globe, 1984 [AIGA Design Archives]

#graphic design #art #illustration #magazine #james joyce #katie aldrich #vivienne flesher #the boston globe #aiga design archives #1980s

[joribolton]

Spot illustrations for the Boston Globe from 2021 about workplace benefits.

On the site here. And on the Boston Globe here.

AD: Greg Klee

web | insta | twitter

#Jori Bolton #boston globe #editorial #illustration #spot #monocolor #monotone #one color #teal #art #lineart #photoshop #digital art #magazine #piggy bank #beach #swimsuit #birthday

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Virginia Hamilton changed children’s literature for generations of readers, bringing a Faulknerian style of sophisticated and cutting-edge writing to the world of books for young readers. Hamilton was awarded the Newbery Medal, three Newbery Honors, the National Book Award, the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award, the Hans Christian Andersen Medal, and many more.

Readers will be enlightened by Hamilton’s engaging, powerful, and witty perspective on African American literature as well as her own experiences as a writer and an American. an award-winning author of children books including “House of Dies Drear,” “M.C. Higgins the Great,” and “Sweet Whispers, Brother Rush.”

She was born in Yellow Springs, OH, on this date March 12, 1936.

CARTER™️ Magazine

#Virginia Hamilton #carter magazine #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #history #cartermagazine #carter #today in history #staywoke #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 3 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: An engagement party only sinks Gloria's roots deeper into the Corleone family and gives her a glimpse of what her future may hold.

Note: I plan to have chapter 4 posted next weekend! This fic has been so fun to write, and I appreciate the support on here and AO3 for it🖤

Warnings: Angst, canonical major character death, discussions of infidelity, emotional manipulation. Sexually explicit content which includes masochism.

Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

Chapter 2 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

“Looks like Senator Kennedy might run for president next year. They’re saying just because he’s Catholic, he’d probably lose the primaries in the South,” Gloria said, scanning the copy of the Boston Globe that room service had brought up with breakfast, along with that day’s editions of the New York Times, Washington Post, and Los Angeles Post. “Can you believe that?”

Michael nodded from his spot next to her on the loveseat, using his toast to mop up the yolk from his poached egg. “I can believe it.”

She glanced at the photo of Massachusetts Senator John F. Kennedy printed on the Globe’s article. “He sure is easy on the eyes. Almost got my vote already.”

“Would you really vote for a candidate just because you thought he was attractive?”

Gloria shielded her face behind the newspaper, hiding her grin. “It sure helps. You’d win by a landslide.” She started giggling when she heard him scoff. 

She knew the Senate hearings were still a sore spot for him, his family business being speculated about on the national stage. Throughout the hearings, she’d naturally kept an eye on the papers, amused by the various asides about Michael’s appearance. Intimidating, they called him, a powerful presence who commanded the attention of the room. She especially liked the article in a gossip magazine she indulged in that described him as handsome in a dark and dangerous way that almost inspires something primal in a woman. 

“You’re funny.”

“I’m not allowed to give you a compliment?”

He acquiesced with the slightest smile on his face. “Thank you.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome,” she said as she flipped to the next page of the article. “My mom’s already chomping at the bit to volunteer for his campaign.”

Gloria’s mother, Julia, was especially active in the Queens branch of the New York Democratic Party, volunteering for every one of Franklin Roosevelt’s presidential campaigns. Gloria could remember canvassing with her mother during election years. After he was elected president a third time, Julia received a thank you letter in the mail from Eleanor Roosevelt. She had the letter framed, and as far as Gloria knew, it was still displayed in the living room of her childhood home.

“Have you heard from your parents about the engagement party?”

“They’re not coming. Dad can’t take the time off of work,” Gloria said. 

When he had told her such, she knew it wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t about to tell Michael that she could hear her father pour himself a drink over the phone when she informed him that she would be marrying a gangster.

He nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d like to speak with your father soon.”

Gloria hummed noncommittally. “How many people are going to be there?”

“Just family, around thirty or so.”

“Thirty? Michael, you said it was going to be a small gathering.”

He grinned. “In my family it is.” He brushed some of her long black hair from her face. “You’ll know everyone soon enough.”

“Well, I already know your siblings. They’re going to be there, right?”

“Fredo can’t make it.”

“That’s a shame. He introduced us, after all.”

“It can’t be helped,” he said dismissively. “Connie will be there. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.”

Gloria liked all of Michael’s siblings, but she considered Connie a friend. Whenever Connie was in Vegas, which was quite often when she wasn’t jet-setting with her latest beau, Michael would ask Gloria to keep an eye on her. Of course, this would turn into nights of drinking, partying, and watching Connie win or lose astonishing amounts of money in the casino. 

“You have nothing to worry about. They’re friendlier than I am,” he said, earning a soft laugh from her.

By the end of the week, she wasn’t so sure, but Michael had been the one who insisted on the engagement party, telling her that his family had never been involved in his wedding preparations in the past. They hadn’t even attended the ceremony. With his mother’s health declining, it was important to him. 

If Gloria had been nervous to meet Michael’s children, meeting the rest of his family had her stomach in knots. She poured herself a drink to calm down before the car arrived to pick her up from her hotel. While Anthony and Mary could be shielded from the truth of Michael and Gloria’s relationship by virtue of their youth, she figured the rest of his family already considered her a homewrecker. Not entirely untrue, but she wondered how what tale had been woven prior to her arrival. Undoubtedly something to make her more palatable to his extended family.

As she crossed the threshold of his home for the first time, she felt a different warmth in his house than the kind that engulfed her in her childhood home when she had visited for Thanksgiving a few months prior. That warmth had given way to a love that wrapped around her like a blanket, a love she could dream in. The love that permeated the air in Michael’s home clung to her skin like summer sweat. Nevertheless, she supposed a sweltering love was better than none at all.

Though, when he squeezed her hand, his smile betrayed his fondness for her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. It almost made her wish that they were alone again, but there were introductions to be made. Namely, his mother Carmela, who was clearly being polite to Gloria for Michael’s sake and to set a good example for Anthony and Mary. Michael’s children barely left their grandmother’s side but seemed happy to see Gloria again. Taking the hint, Michael kept the conversation short. 

“I have some business to go over with Tom. It won’t take long, but I think my sister’s about to steal you anyway,” Michael said softly, giving Gloria a gentle kiss on her cheek. 

As he retreated into his office, Connie rushed over to Gloria. 

Connie beamed, pulling her in for a hug. “Gloria! God, how long has it been?”

“Hi, Connie,” she said, returning her future sister-in-law’s embrace. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Congratulations! Now let me see that ring!”

Gloria moved back, holding out her hand so Connie could inspect the engagement ring Michael gave her. The night had been quiet, unceremonious if not for his presenting her with the ring, beautiful yet understated. After he slid it onto her finger, her hand burned, and she thought she was having some kind of allergic reaction to the metal until she noticed no redness or hives on her skin—psychosomatic, merely branded in her mind’s eye.

“Gorgeous, oh my god,” Connie gasped. “It suits you.”

Before Gloria could say anything more to Connie, a gaggle of younger relatives walked over to introduce themselves. All nieces and nephews, some older with their spouses and fiances of their own. Despite Connie reminding Gloria who was who, she felt her head spin at the amount of new names and faces she would be expected to know. It didn’t help that Michael’s late brother Sonny had twin girls, who were the spitting image of their mother, Sandra. While both of Gloria’s parents had a handful of siblings themselves, her extended family wasn’t nearly as close-knit as the Corleones were.

The line between business and family was almost nonexistent for them. Each son fated to take up some role in the volatile business, a Greek tragedy enacted by mostly Sicilian players–Sonny, the eldest son, dead by enemies taking advantage of his anger and hubris; Tom, the adopted son, a trusted advisor, though his heritage always left him the outsider; Fredo, the forgotten son, good-natured yet quietly resentful; Michael, the youngest son, who tried to escape his destiny but was instead doomed by a narrative greater than himself and even further corrupted by it. The chorus raged on with its warnings of the ruthless pursuit of power ignored, and Gloria shuddered to think what lay ahead for Anthony and the son Michael wanted her to carry.

Going forward, her life would be nothing short of a whirlwind of people. She wondered how Michael’s children could stand it, how he could stand it. For a family so guarded and secretive, they didn’t have much privacy. Everyone knew everything about each other. Corleone family associates filtered in and out of his house day and night. 

“Why don’t you all give the woman a break so she can get something to eat?” Sandra finally said, putting her arm around Gloria’s shoulders and leading her into the kitchen.

“Thank you. I couldn’t eat before I got here. My nerves were all over the place,” Gloria said, taking a plate and helping herself to the antipasto that was set out on the table. She popped a few olives in her mouth as she piled the various meats and cheeses onto her plate.

Sandra stood next to her, taking a slice of prosciutto for herself. “No, I understand. We’re insular, guess it’s just easier that way.” 

Gloria silently wondered how easy it really could be. Sandra had been a widow for at least a decade, with Sonny having been brutally murdered on the Long Beach causeway during the Corleones’ war with rival families. The details were all over the papers at the time, but none showed the photos of Sonny’s body, apparently too gruesome to be printed as he was riddled with bullets to the point where he was nearly unrecognizable. Still, Sandra was taken care of, her marriage all but secured that even after her husband’s death, an Old World life insurance policy. 

“I don’t know what I expected. Everyone seems so…normal,” Gloria said, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Ah, that’s not the right word. I mean—“

“This thing’s been going on longer than you and me,” Sandra said, gesturing vaguely. “I stopped trying to understand it a long time ago. It’ll drive you crazy.”

“I don’t even bother,” Gloria said through a mouthful of mozzarella. “He keeps me too busy to even think about it, anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Sandra said, a sly smile on her face that Gloria couldn’t help but snicker in response to. “Believe me honey, I get mine.”

Tom appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

She noticed the look Sandra and Tom shared as he walked over, albeit brief, it was all too familiar. The desire, the longing, the silent promise of later, despite Tom’s wife Theresa being just a room away. Interesting. Gloria had more in common with the Corleone women than she thought.

“Gloria, congratulations,” Tom said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate it.”

“Could you come with me to Michael’s office? I just need to go over a few things with you.”

Gloria nodded, following him out of the kitchen and through the labyrinth of people in the living room. 

As soon as she stepped into Michael’s office, she nearly felt the urge to genuflect before taking a seat next to him on the leather upholstered couch, as if sliding into a pew during mass. His face lit up ever so slightly when he saw her, and he took her hand in his. 

“It’s good news, darling. Don’t worry,” Michael said, reading her hesitation.

She gave him a weak smile before bringing her attention to Tom.

“The divorce is almost finalized, but I’ve sent Michael’s petition to the Vatican to have his marriage to Kay annulled,” Tom said. “Between our connections to the Holy See and the severity of what she committed, I don’t anticipate this taking more than two or three months.”

All Gloria could manage in response was a quiet, “Wow.”

Michael smiled, patting Gloria’s hand. The gesture meant to be reassuring, as if Gloria had asked for it, like she was the one who wanted Kay’s sin repaid pound for pound if not in blood, then in excommunication and eternal damnation. Kay’s decision was her own, but Gloria wasn’t without sin, and neither was Michael, yet he was more than willing to have his soon to be ex-wife formally damned. Knowing Michael, the most he believed in was the hierarchy, the institution. God was merely an irritating obstacle at best and outright competition at worst.

The revelation of Kay’s mortal sin to the Vatican would almost guarantee Michael an annulment. With that in place, there’d be nothing to stop them from having a formal wedding mass despite his being divorced from a consummated marriage. An otherwise long and tedious process to convince the Catholic Church to invalidate the eternal, holy bond of matrimony would be taken care of in a matter of months. 

“Once that’s all sorted out, the two of you will be able to set a date. Obviously the situation isn’t ideal, but—“

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate the effort,” Gloria said awkwardly. 

He nodded, his tight-lipped smile slightly strained. He lacked the pleasure that his brother had in the situation at hand, but there was little else he could do as consigliere. 

“I have one more thing to discuss with Tom, but I’ll join you again soon,” Michael said, walking her over to the door. “Won’t leave you with the sharks too long.”

He kissed the top of her hand before she made her exit. As soon as the door shut behind her, Gloria searched out Connie, who was helping herself to a glass of wine. 

“Always business with them, huh?” Connie quipped.

“Something like that,” Gloria said. “Hey, did Michael tell you why Fredo couldn’t make it? You’d think he’d be here. He introduced Michael and me.”

“You know, I’m not sure myself,” Connie said, though her tone wasn’t entirely convincing. “Hard to keep track of everyone. I mean, Francesca and her fiance are god knows where, and Ma just went off to take a walk.”

Gloria sighed. “I don’t think your mother likes me very much.”

“Ma’s old fashioned, is all,” Connie assured her. “She hasn’t liked anyone I married.”

“Gee, thanks, Connie.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t let this keep you from being excited.”

“I’m excited, absolutely,” Gloria said, feeling that anxious was more appropriate. “The relationship feels so different now compared to when me and Michael were just fooling around.”

Connie’s laugh caught the attention of just about everyone within a few feet of them, turning to see what the commotion was about. “Gloria, you know as well as I do that my brother does not fool around,” she whispered.

That much was true. Michael had a sense of humor, it was one of Gloria’s favorite things about him, but even that was guarded, doled out sparingly to a select few. Nothing half-assed or left to chance, he was meticulous and calculated, necessary traits to earn wartime promotions and later lead the Corleone family. She should have realized sooner that his maintaining their relationship for so long would serve a greater purpose.

Conversely, Gloria never considered herself the marrying type, not finding the trappings of domesticity appealing compared to the independence she enjoyed as a single woman. None of her other dalliances ever lasted longer than a few weeks. While she never considered herself quite the party girl that her Las Vegas peers were, she was never one to deny herself pleasure, throwing caution to the wind in pursuit of a good time if she felt so inclined.

Perhaps her appeal as a wife to Michael was two-fold, what she could offer him as potential mother of his child, and an ego boost in conquering her, a woman half-feral whose worldliness coursed through her veins. A much needed triumph after the domestication of his sophisticated New Englandite ex-wife had regressed until she destroyed her cage, blood and iron reflected in her wild green eyes. 

She looked at Mary and Anthony, playing with their cousins, seemingly unaware of the significance of the occasion. After the dinner a few weeks prior, Michael said that he had told them Kay had done something very bad, and so she left and wasn’t coming back, and they weren’t to ask him any more questions about it. She wondered if they actually believed him.

“I need some air,” Gloria said abruptly.

She rushed over to the sliding glass door that led outside, shoving a cigarette between her lips as she made her way onto the deck that overlooked Lake Tahoe. Lighting the cigarette with shaky hands, she almost didn’t notice her future mother-in-law standing just a few feet away from her.

“Mrs. Corleone—uh, hi,” Gloria said.

The matriarch was silent, save for a brief nod of acknowledgement. 

“How are you liking the party?”

“It’s fine.”

“That’s good. Michael will be glad to hear it.”

Silence once again hung in the air. Gloria brought her cigarette to her lips, watching the smoke rise above them.

“I don’t approve of the way you and Michael conducted your relationship, contributing to his marital strife,” Carmela said, pausing briefly. “Maybe it would have ended up this way without you in the picture.”

Carmela and Kay were close, she knew as much. Connie had told her that the two would often go to Mass together. For all intents and purposes, Carmela had taken Kay under her wing. It made sense, Kay had taken up the mantle previously held by Carmela, and it helped that she was a nice, college-educated woman while still being a devoted wife and mother—until she couldn’t take it anymore. Gloria being Michael’s mistress was enough for her future mother-in-law to have already made up her mind about her.

“I understand.”

“What Kay did was desperate, a horrible thing after her cries for help weren’t heeded by my son.” Carmela side-eyed Gloria. “How often was he preoccupied with you?”

“Whenever he was in Vegas on business,” Gloria answered honestly. “We went to Los Angeles together twice, too.”

“My husband, God rest his soul, always used to tell our sons, ‘A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.’”

It was Gloria’s turn to be silent. She didn’t know the late Don Vito Corleone. Didn’t know whether or not he was a hypocrite. Michael admired him. The whole family spoke fondly of their dearly deceased patriarch. As far as Gloria was concerned, Vito was a myth, a superstition that existed in the whispers of every mafioso, spinning taller tales about their former Don with each passing year. For all she knew, people misquoted him the way they did Abraham Lincoln. 

“I’m not going to pretend I haven’t been selfish and made a lot of questionable choices. I’m not exactly sorry for them, either. For some reason, Michael loves me in spite of all of that, and I do love him.”

“That’s all that matters now, isn’t it? The only thing that can keep the family together…what’s left of it, anyway.” She gave Gloria a wistful smile. “Michael looked happy when he walked in with you. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.”

Gloria took a long drag on her cigarette, knowing Carmela would rather that happiness be with Kay, his wife, rather than with her. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Michael asked, startling Gloria a bit. She hadn’t heard him open the glass door to go outside.

“No, I’m going to head back inside now,” his mother said. “Chilly out.”

Michael nodded. “Alright, Ma. Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

Michael and Gloria were silent as the Corleone matriarch made her exit. Gloria leaned against the railing, her back pressing against the hard wood as she took one last inhale of her cigarette before flicking it aside. She watched the ember glow faintly in the wet pile of spring leaves on the ground before going out.

“I didn’t see you inside. Connie told me you needed some air,” Michael said, standing in front of her.

“Just felt a little overwhelmed. So many people,” she said, as if that hadn’t been her job for five years. Except those were all strangers. Every person in that house was related to or worked for Michael, and soon she’d be part of it. “You really didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I wanted to,” he said. 

“Like how you want to marry me?” she asked. “The way it all happened, I just—“

“You just what?”

Her attention drifted to her hands, playing with her engagement ring as she withered beneath his intense gaze. “I just wonder if you thought this through.”

“I’ve done the thinking for both of us. I know you’re nervous, darling, but this is what’s best for you,” Michael said, with all the conviction of a man who still believed she was formed of his rib. Silly woman, head full of glittering diamonds, champagne bubbles, and red lipstick. He placed a firm hand over her fidgeting one. “I won’t be as careless as I have been in the past.”

Gloria stared at him for a moment, thinking she liked him better careless, at least more so than the front he put on for everyone, including her. For how important he claimed his family was, there was always distance, if not emotional then physical. At the very least, she closed the few inches between them, kissing him with the ferocity of a woman who was still resisting the trappings of domesticity. 

It didn’t matter to him. His hands found her hips as they always did, fingers pressing deep to claim her flesh as his own. His own instinct had momentarily clouded his reason, as he pulled away from her, albeit reluctantly. His eyes were trained on hers, pupils dilated when he finally glanced behind him, as if to make sure his family hadn’t seen this temporary lapse of control from their Don.

And they hadn’t. At least none of them indicated such as the night went on, and they slowly dispersed back to their respective homes on the vast Lake Tahoe compound or in the surrounding city, giving their congratulations and well-wishes to Gloria and Michael. 

She was grateful he’d at least arranged for his children to stay over at his mother’s, though she could tell he was growing tired of her insisting they be given time to adjust to Kay’s absence and Gloria’s sudden intrusion into their life. They’d undoubtedly have questions about Gloria staying the night, in their father’s bedroom, no less.

All traces of Kay ever being there were long gone, but Gloria glanced at the bed, Michael’s initials embroidered on the linens, wondering how many nights Kay had lain awake in that very bed, knowing her husband was with her. Maybe it was a relief after a while, seeing as Kay’s tolerance for Michael only dwindled as time went on.

Gloria liked it better when those things were separate, when she could be the other woman without having to think too hard about the implications. But she hadn’t driven Kay away. Michael had. And that same man was dragging her in, his desperation not quite as raw as the night he made his proposal, but still evident, if only to her.

This time, he initiated the kiss, his lips claiming hers, payback for her daring public display of affection earlier. He sunk his teeth into her lower lip, fresh blood blending with the red lipstick she wore, no doubt smeared across her mouth as the traces of it were on his. Though his intensity scared her at times, she found it thrilling, perhaps addicted to the adrenaline that came with riling him up, the one time she felt like she had the upper hand on him.

She kissed his neck, knowing better than to leave a mark, but at least temporarily leaving a streak of crimson in her wake. Reaching between them, she rubbed his cock through his pants, feeling it harden beneath her until his hips just barely bucked.

“Jesus—fuck, Gloria,” he groaned.

She gently protested his attempt to guide her back onto the bed. “Missionary, missionary,” she teased against his lips. “You know I’m the type of woman who likes variety.”

His nostrils flared, eyes widened at her words, and she resisted the urge to smirk until he’d turned her around, forcing her ass-up on the edge of his marital bed. Only in her black satin slip and panties, the latter were quickly discarded. She licked her bruised lip when she heard him unbuckling his belt, the rustling of fabric preceding his hand slipping between her folds, his fingers feeling the slick that already coated her pussy. 

She shuddered at the sensation of him rubbing her clit, and as she gripped the comforter she lay on, she silently determined that if she couldn’t get her pleasure from anyone but him going forward, she’d make sure it was on her terms. She loved sex, which was acceptable for mistresses but apparently not for wives, as the act was then relegated for procreation rather than pleasure. She didn’t see why they couldn't have both.

Michael grabbed Gloria’s hips, and she steeled herself as he pushed his cock inside her, his thrusts deep and slow until she growled, “Harder. I’m not gonna break.”

Her nails dug into the soft fabric beneath her, clawing at it as her back arched, cat-like as she took him deeper, his pace unforgiving, her cries of pleasure filling the room. He had jokingly accused her of being a masochist in the past. She never outright denied it.

“Is this what you wanted all night?” he forced out through gritted teeth.

Her moan wasn’t a good enough response, as he slapped her ass, sending a jolt through her.

“Answer me.”

“I always want you.”

“Only me.”

“Only you.”

With that, he came inside of her, and she humped the bed for that extra bit of friction on her clit, feeling her own orgasm achingly close as she felt his seed filling her. Biting her barely healed lip finally sent her over the edge, and she buried her face in the comforter, lifting it a few moments after riding out her orgasm on Michael’s cock to see a stain of blood, spit, and mascara. 

She whimpered when he pulled out of her, her pussy still throbbing from her climax. With aching muscles, she crawled up the mattress, leaning against the neatly made pillows. He undressed, his gaze fixed on her he joined her on the bed, pulling her against his chest, still slightly heaving from the exertion.

“What got into you?” he asked, amusement in his eyes.

“Besides you?” she joked before speaking her next words carefully, ever so manipulatively, “I know we’ve been trying for the baby, but can’t it at least be fun?”

He smiled, kissing the crown of her head. “I don’t see why not.”

After that night, she increasingly split her time between the hotel and his house, slowly getting to know his family better. Carmela was still icy to Gloria when she was able to make it over to the house. Those instances became more scarce, until she could only take so many visitors at her home until one evening in late spring, she passed away.

Melancholy swept over the family at the loss of their beloved mother and grandmother. Gloria regretted not having the time to build a better relationship with the woman, but the more selfish part of her lamented that she would be expected to take up the matriarchal mantle so soon, something she neither desired nor felt prepared for.

“You look beautiful, darling,” Michael murmured, helping her clasp the gold necklace her grandmother had given her for her confirmation, the pendant of the Blessed Mother resting just above her collarbone.

They stood in his bedroom, preparing for the funeral mass and wake that were sure to bring in dozens of people to the cemetery and Corleone compound.

She turned around, forehead wrinkled in concern. “This is about you and your family. I’m not sure if I should even be there.”

“Enough of this, Gloria. You’re going to be my wife, that makes you part of this too,” he said. “There are going to be a lot of people here today, some very important. I need you with me. We need to show strength and solidarity right now.”

“Alright, I—you’re right, Michael,” she said. 

Gloria grabbed her black, lace gloves off the dresser, carefully sliding them onto her hands, though she hadn’t noticed until later at the funeral mass that her engagement ring had torn through the delicate fabric.

#the godfather #michael corleone #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone imagine #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather part ii #the godfather fanfic #the godfather imagine #michael corleone x ofc #bruised fruit fic

[alteregodepega]

This is a drawing tribute made from a magnificent illustration by Gluyas Williams, a fabulous artist who was noted for his contributions to The New Yorker, Boston Globe, Life, Collier's, Century and other magazines and newspapers. His drawings often dealt with prevailing themes of the time, reflecting a classic costumbrismo, depicting scenes from the upper-middle class of interwar North America. An admirer of Aubrey Beardsley, his black and white drawings are made with a delicate but firm line, supported by strategically arranged black masses, which give the scene that precise balance. My drawing is made with pencil and markers as almost always. #theydiditbefore #gluyaswilliams #tribute #illustrations #classicillustrators ‐--------‐--------‐--------‐----------------------‐--------‐-----------‐--------‐--------‐----------------------‐--------‐------------ Éste es un dibujo realizado a partir de una magnífica ilustración de Gluyas Williams, un fabuloso artista que destacó por sus contribuciones a The New Yorker, Boston Globe, Life, Collier's, Century y otras revistas y periódicos.

Sus dibujos, a menudo, trataban temas predominantes de la época, reflejando un costumbrismo clásico, retratando escenas de la sociedad medio-alta de la Norteamérica de entreguerras.

 Admirador de Aubrey Beardsley, sus dibujos en blanco y negro están realizados con una delicada pero firme linea, apuntalada por masas negras estratégicamente dispuestas, que otorgan ese equilibrio preciso a la escena.

Mi dibujo está realizado con lápiz y rotuladores como casi siempre.

#elloslohicieronantes #gluyaswilliams #tributo #ilustraciones #ilustradores

#my art #my drawings #fan art #ink #drawing #illustration #GluyasWilliams #tribute

[msclaritea]

Over 750 Journalists Sign Letter Protesting Coverage of Israel’s War on Gaza - Washington Post - Palestine Chronicle

The funeral of two Palestinian journalists killed by Israeli forces in Gaza. (Photo: Mahmoud Ajjour, The Palestine Chronicle)

https://www.palestinechronicle.com/over-750-journalists-sign-letter-protesting-coverage-of-israels-war-on-gaza-washington-post/

Over 750 journalists have signed an open letter published on Thursday condemning Israel’s killing of reporters in Gaza and slamming Western media’s coverage of the war, the Washington Post reported.

The letter, which includes signatories from Reuters, the Los Angeles Times, the Boston Globe and The Washington Post, states that newsrooms are “accountable for dehumanizing rhetoric that has served to justify ethnic cleansing of Palestinians”.

“For some of the journalists, signing the letter was a daring or even risky move,” The Washington Post said, adding:

“Reporters have been fired from some newsrooms for espousing public political stances that could open them to accusations of bias.”

“The journalists’ letter follows several other open letters in recent weeks, most expressing solidarity with Palestinians,” the Washington Post wrote, noting that a letter – signed by hundreds of Jewish writers and published in N+1 magazine read, “We are horrified to see the fight against antisemitism weaponized as a pretext for war crimes with stated genocidal intent.”

Much of the text of the letter “focuses on the journalists who have been killed in the month-long conflict”, The Washington Post said.

The Government Media Office in Gaza has reported the killing of 46 journalists since the beginning of the Israeli aggression on the Gaza Strip on October 7.

(The Palestine Chronicle)

"More than 750 journalists from news organizations including the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times and the Guardian have signed a letter condemning Israel's “killing of journalists in Gaza” — as they urged outlets to use terms like “apartheid” and “genocide” in their reporting to describe the Jewish nation's"...1 day ago

NY Post

#Israel #750 Journalists #Genocide #Apartheid #Palestine

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Mike Damiano and Hilary Burns

Published: Sept 20, 2023

Boston University announced Wednesday it would conduct an “inquiry” into Dr. Ibram X. Kendi’s Center for Antiracist Research after complaints emerged about the center’s culture and financial management.

The assessment comes the week after Kendi, a celebrity author, scholar of race, and antiracism advocate laid off more than half the center’s staff.

The complaints, a BU spokesperson said, “focused on the center’s culture and its grant management practices.” The inquiry announced Wednesday represents a broadening of a previous “examination” of the center’s grant management practices, according to the spokesperson, Rachel Lapal Cavallario.

Kendi “takes strong exception to the allegations made in recent complaints and media reports,” she said.

Since its announced launch in June 2020, just days after the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis, the center has raised tens of millions of dollars from tech entrepreneurs, Boston-area corporations, and thousands of small donors.

At the time, Kendi, the author of the bestselling 2019 book “How to Be an Antiracist,” said the center would “solve these intractable racial problems of our time.”

The money was meant to finance a range of ambitious projects: a database to track racial disparities nationwide, a graduate degree program, a media enterprise, and research teams studying the effects of systemic racism on health and society.

Some of these projects have come to fruition, including The Emancipator, a digital publication launched with the Boston Globe’s opinion staff in 2021. The publication’s operations shifted to BU in March, although it continues to be hosted on the Globe’s website.

But others have not, including the Racial Data Tracker, which one former staffer described as a “centerpiece” of the organization’s goals.

Lapal Cavallario said Wednesday that the center “has been developing” the Racial Data Tracker. She referred follow-up questions to the center itself, which did not respond.

She also provided a list of the center’s achievements, including: funding for numerous research projects, collaboration in a project launched by journalists at the Atlantic magazine (where Kendi is a contributing writer) to track racial disparities in COVID data, and organizing two “policy convenings” on antibigotry and data collection related to race and ethnicity.

“Boston University and Dr. Kendi believe strongly in the center’s mission,” Lapal Cavallario said. “We look forward to working with him as we conduct our assessment.”

BU’s announcement of the inquiry came hours after the Globe sent the university extensive questions about the center’s operations.

In interviews with the Globe this week, current and former employees described a dysfunctional work environment that made it difficult to achieve the center’s lofty goals.

The organization “was just being mismanaged on a really fundamental level,” said Phillipe Copeland, a professor in BU’s School of Social Work who also worked for the center as assistant director of narrative.

Although most decision-making authority rested with Kendi, Copeland said he found it difficult to schedule meetings with him. Other staffers described paralysis in the organization because Kendi declined to delegate authority and was not often available.

Copeland resigned from the center in June.

Kendi has completed a number of personal projects since 2020, including a graphic novel focused on the history of racist ideas, a podcast called “Be Antiracist,” and a five-episode TV show scheduled to debut Wednesday on ESPN+.

In recent months, Kendi had been on leave from the center, according to BU.

He returned last week and, in a series of Zoom meetings, told approximately 20 of the center’s staffers that they would be laid off, according to Spencer Piston, a BU professor and leader in the center’s policy office.

The layoffs “were initiated by Dr. Kendi” and represented a strategic pivot, not a response to any financial difficulty, Lapal Cavallario said. The center will now pursue a fellowship model “rather than its current research-based approach,” she said.

The layoffs surprised some staffers.

“I don’t know where the money is,” said Saida Grundy, a BU professor who worked at the center from fall 2020 to spring 2021.

In December 2021, Grundy sent an email to BU provost Jean Morrison alleging dysfunction in the organization and a “pattern of amassing grants without any commitment to producing the research obligated” by them.

Lapal Cavallario said Wednesday that BU had “received some complaints from individuals questioning whether the center was following its funding guidelines. We are currently looking into those complaints.”

The center, she said, “would disagree with a characterization of it not having produced important work insofar as antiracism is concerned.”

==

I'm reminded that they got Capone on tax evasion, rather than all the gangstering and murdering and such.

I would prefer that Kendi fall into disrepute through exposure, analysis and refutation of his fraudulent "scholarship," but a financial scandal will suffice.

#Ibram X. Kendi #Kendi is a racist #Boston University #Center for Antiracist Research #financial scams #financial scandal #academic fraud #religion is a mental illness

[libertariantaoist]

News Roundup 12/4/2023 | The Libertarian Institute

Here is your daily roundup of today's news:

News Roundup 12/4/2023

by Kyle Anzalone

US News

Sen. Wyden Threatens to Block Vote on NSA, US Cyber Command Nominee. The Hill

Ukraine

Secretary of State Antony Blinken dismissed reports that the US was pushing Ukraine towards negotiating an end to the war with Russia during a meeting of NATO foreign ministers. At the summit, Foreign Minister Dmytro Kuleba said Ukraine had a “de facto” NATO military. The Institute 

Ukraine Military Eye Proposal to Expand Conscript 100,000 New Soldiers. Boston Globe

US Official Says Washington Aims to Cut Russian Energy Exports By 50% By 2030. FT

Russia to Add 170,000 Soldiers to Armed Forces. TASS

Zelensky: Counteroffensive “Did Not Achieve the Desired Results.” Kyiv Indpendent

NATO Chief Stoltenberg: We Should Be Prepared for Bad News About Ukraine. Politico AWC

Ukrainian officials speaking to media outlets on Friday claimed that the CIA-backed Security Service of Ukraine (SBU) blew up trains on railways deep inside eastern Russia. AWC

China

Washington Will Expand AUKUS Accord to Include AI, Electronic Warfare and Quantum Technology. The Hill

China Says US War Ship Illegally Entered Chinese Waters. Yahoo

OPEC

Brazil Plans to Join OPEC+ Next Year. Yahoo

Korea

South Korea Scraps F-35 Damaged By Bird Strike. Yonhap

North Korea: Interference with Satellite Is a Declaration of War. The HillThe Institute

Israel

Washington Is Profoundly Concerned About Turkish Ties to Hamas. FT

IDF Chief Tells Blinken Military Operations in Gaza Will Take More Than a Few Weeks. AxiosAWC

Gallup Poll Finds Only 32% of Americans Support Biden’s Handling of Israeli War in Gaza. UPI

A report from +972 Magazine published on Thursday detailed how Israel is intentionally targeting civilians in Gaza as part of its war strategy even when Israeli forces know strikes will kill young children. AWC

NYT: Israel Knew About Hamas Attack a Year Before October 7. NYT

Israel Has Arrested More Than 270 Palestinians in Crackdown on Free Speech. Chicago Tribune

Tel Aviv has been relying on an AI Program dubbed the Gospel to select targets in Gaza at a rapid pace. In past operations in Gaza, the IDF ran out of targets to strike in the besieged enclave. AWC

The Financial Times reported speaking with sources who said that Israel plans to wage war on Gaza for over a year. In a little less than two months, Israel has killed at least 15,000 people, damaged 100,000 buildings, displaced 1.7 million Palestinians, and destroyed most of Gaza’s medical facilities. AWC

Israel Abuses Justice System to Target Minors and Break Up Families. LA Times

The Wall Street Journal published details about the White House’s secretive arms transfers to Israel since October 7. The US has provided Israel with 57,000 artillery shells and 15,000 bombs, including over 5,000 with 2,000-pound warheads. AWC

Doctors Without Borders Says Israel Responsible for Attack on Medical Convoy that Killed 2. DWB

Babies at Gaza Children’s Hospital Left to Die and Decompose After Israel Froced Hospital Staff to Evacuate. NBC News

Blinken Told Netanyahu the White House Will Begin Banning Violent Israeli Settlers from Entering US. Reuters 

Israel Withdraws Negotiators From Hostage Release Talks. AJ

Limited Number of Aid Trucks Reach Gaza After Israel Resumes Bombing. AJ

Sec Def Austin Says Israel Risks “Strategic Defeat” By Mass Civlian Killing in Gaza. VOA

Israeli Forces Operating Throughout Gaza: IDF. The Guardian 

Iran

The House on Thursday passed a bill that would force the president to permanently freeze $6 billion in Iranian funds that were briefly made available to Tehran as part of a prisoner swap deal. AWC

Syria

Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) said two of its members stationed in Syria as advisors were killed by Israeli airstrikes, The Associated Press reported Saturday, citing the IRGC’s website. AWC

US Official Says Single Rocket Fired at Base in Syria. VOAAWC

US Strike in Syria Kills Five Iraqi Fighters. MEEAWC

Yemen

Houthis Launch Missiles and Drones at US War Ship and Commerical Vessels in Red Sea. Politico AWC

Read More

#kyle anzalone #libertarian institute #news roundup

[thislovintime]

Photo by Matthew Asner:

“First day of school in 9th grade. I am nervous as hell because it is my first day of high school and it’s all new. I walk into my Social Studies Class and am greeted by the teacher who just happens to be Peter Tork of The Monkees. A guy I watched goofing around on TV religiously as a child was teaching me about the world. He was a tough teacher. We had a thing in his class where he would always think that I wasn’t paying attention. He would always make a point of stopping what he was teaching and say to me, ‘What did I just say`’ I would always answer him correctly and it always seemed to frustrate him. He was very smart and loved to read from Mao’s Little Red Book. I was truly happy for him when The Monkees started touring and he found success again. I took this picture in our schoolyard at New Dimensions High School.” - Matthew Asner (Ed Asner’s son), Facebook, July 1, 2023

“Since September he has been teaching English, math, drama, Eastern philosophy and ‘Rock Band Class’ at Pacific Hills, a private secondary school in Santa Monica, Calif. A college dropout, Peter got the job on the strength of his interview with Dr. Penrod Moss, the school’s director. ‘I like to hire people who are independent and creative,’ Moss said. ‘I was impressed by his personality and his ability to speak.’ […] While Tork the musician still has dreams of one day returning to the rock circuit, Thorkelson the teacher is happily planning his next course, ‘Mao, Marx and Mama.’ ‘I’m doing something important,’ he says. ‘I never do anything less than important.’” - People magazine, April 5, 1976

“For some time, [Tork] said, the students in his high school classes had trouble forgetting their teacher was once a teen idol. ‘Until I gave out a few F’s,’ he added, grinning.” - The Clarion Ledger, November 1, 1979 (x)

“I was a schoolteacher in Southern California, and I taught music as well as academics, and I really very much love to teach, and, and I think that if circumstances show me that I am not to entertain anymore or my entertaining career per se winds down, I would very, very much love to coach young entertainers.” - Peter Tork, Headquarters radio, September 1989

“[A]s a teacher, I realized that in order to teach something well you need to understand what your student is going through as they try to learn.” - Peter Tork, The Journal Times Online, August 12, 2005

On a 2018 blog post at the Monkees Live Almanac, one former student, Mark, commented: “Best high school teacher I ever had […]. Tremendous empathy.” (x)

“I taught English and social studies. And sure, the kids probably saw me as a Monkee, but they got over that in a hurry. Once I lost my temper at the kids, they’d see I was just like all the others — and I probably lost my temper too many times, since I was in an angry state back then. I have a life now, that’s the difference. I have a spiritual core. I’m not Shirley MacLaine but I believe in greater or lesser worlds and consciousness. Most people think of themselves as cut off from each other; others know there’s a connectedness that can be tapped into.” - Peter Tork, The Boston Globe, August 10, 1989

“In the mid-’70s, Tork got jobs teaching English, social studies and music at two private schools in the Los Angeles area. The first job, which he enjoyed, was at ‘a radical progressive school in Santa Monica.’ The second was at a school he describes as ‘a holding tank for budding fascists. I couldn’t hack it. I found more integrity in being a singing waiter’ — his next job.” - Los Angeles Times, October 20, 1992 (x)

More about that next job here.

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #Tork teaching #70s Tork #<3 #long read #Matthew Asner #1975 #1976 #1977 #1978 #1979 #also always so much respect for Peter's unflinching honesty in interviews #this photo... thank you Matthew Asner thank you #The Clarion Ledger #Los Angeles Times #the boston globe #Headquarters Radio #can you queue it

[qqueenofhades]

So... *checks notes* a leftist black man says guns were needed to put down slave revolts with NO EVIDENCE WHATSOEVER and we just believe it? Right. Cool, cool.

Hello, local anonymous social media racist! Welcome* to my inbox! I think you'll find that this may have been a bad move!

There are plenty of ways I am looking forward to this answer, but first, we're all just going to take a moment and sit here in breathless awe of your truly colossal idiocy in claiming that there is "NO EVIDENCE WHATSOEVER" (caps, of course, [sic]) that guns, knives, dogs, gas, batons, whips, chains, ropes, or indeed, any other weapon you can possibly think of have EVER been used to put down slave revolts, or oppress black people in any way, in the entire history of America. NO EVIDENCE THAT SLAVERY WAS BAD!!! screams the anonymous dingbat who has decided that the best use of their precious Friday evening is to lecture me, tumblr user qqueenofhades, on their deeply held belief that nobody in the history of time has ever personally witnessed Americans being horrible to black people in any way. Bro. Please. Spend five minutes on Google, and not Truth Social, Facebook, or wherever you are getting what I hesitate to term "information," and then we can talk again. I do hope you're well rested after sleeping through literally your entire life to date.

Next, evidently, a "leftist black man" is clearly an unreliable source by nature, no matter that he went to Harvard Law and writes professionally on the subject. However, since you asked, we'll bring Professor Carl Bogus from Roger Williams University School of Law into the discussion. Here is a picture of the delightful-name-for-a-law-professor Honorable Dr. Bogus:

Yep. Yessirree bob. 10 out of 10 racists agree, that sure is an old white man (J.D. Syracuse University 1972.) Since it might belabor you unduly to click on a link with information that could challenge your beliefs, here is the first paragraph of his biography, listing his academic and professional expertise:

Professor Bogus has written extensively about political ideology, torts and products liability, and gun control and the Second Amendment. He is the author of two books – Buckley: William F. Buckley Jr. and the Rise of American Conservatism (Bloomsbury Press 2011) and Why Lawsuits Are Good for America: Big Business, Disciplined Democracy and the Common Law (NYU Press 2001). He is also the editor of The Second Amendment in Law and History: Historians and Constitutional Scholars on the Right to Bear Arms (The New Press 2001). In addition to professional journals, his writings have appeared in the New York Times, USA Today, Los Angeles Times, Boston Globe, Washington Times, Providence Journal; The Nation, American Prospect, and American Conservative magazines; CNN's website, and National Review Online.

Hmm. I don't know about you, but that seems like a) this guy might possibly know what he's talking about, and b) anyone who writes for the American Conservative and the National Review is, uh, not exactly a flaming communist liberal. Elie Mystal, the "leftist black man" in question, cites Professor Bogus's May 2018 New York Times article, "Was Slavery a Factor in the Second Amendment?", which laid out the information that I have briefly summarized in the last ask (James Madison included the Second Amendment as an opt-out clause so the Southern states could defend themselves against a slave uprising, but the North wouldn't have to get involved). This was a boiled-down and distilled-for-a-popular audience version of Professor Bogus's (seriously, gotta love that name) earlier 102-page paper from 1998, suggested-citation-of-which is as follows:

Bogus, Carl T., "The Hidden History of the Second Amendment" (Winter 1998). U.C. Davis Law Review, Vol. 31, p. 309, 1998, Roger Williams Univ. Legal Studies Paper No. 80, Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=1465114

Yet again, I will assist you here in providing the abstract:

Professor Bogus argues that there is strong reason to believe that, in significant part, James Madison drafted the Second Amendment to assure his constituents in Virginia, and the South generally, that Congress could not use its newly-acquired powers to indirectly undermine the slave system by disarming the militia, on which the South relied for slave control. His argument is based on a multiplicity of the historical evidence, including debates between James Madison and George Mason and Patrick Henry at the Constitutional Ratifying Convention in Richmond, Virginia in June 1788; the record from the First Congress; and the antecedent of the American right to bear arms provision in the English Declaration of Rights of 1688.

Huh. That's..... also what the Leftist Black Man was saying!!! That can't possibly be right! I WANT A REFUND! QUICK, RUN TO MATT GAETZ'S TWITTER ACCOUNT BEFORE WE LEARN ANYTHING!

You see, this is because I, unlike you, don't "just believe" things that I read. I hope this has answered your question sufficiently. Now please have a nice night, and don't go harassing any more random strangers on social media. Surely you have another hobby.

*Lmao. No. Now get the fuck out.

#history #american history #history of racism #lmao are you f'n serious #i had fun with this but next time you're blocked #anonymous #ask

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[cartermagazine]

To celebrate this Juneteenth, I’m going to relax and enjoy reading ‘August Wilson: A Life’ - the first authoritative of August Wilson by theatre critic Patti Hartigan who knew him.

Thanks to Tyanni from Simon & Schuster @simonbooks who provided the advanced copy for me to enjoy.

Here’s what you can look forward to reading when the book is available August 15, 2023

The Blurb:

August Wilson wrote a series of ten plays examining African American life in the 20th century, one play for each decade. No other American playwright has completed such an ambitious oeuvre. Two of the plays became successful films, Fences, starring Denzel Washington and Viola Davis; and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, starring Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman. Fences and The Piano Lesson won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama; Fences won the Tony Award for Best Play, and years after Wilson’s death in 2005, Jitney earned a Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play.

Through his brilliant use of vernacular speech, Wilson developed unforgettable characters who epitomized the trails and triumphs of the African American experience. He said that he didn’t research his plays but wrote from “the blood’s memory,” a sense of racial history that he believed African Americans shared. Author and theatre critic Patti Hartigan traced his ancestry back to slavery, and his plays echo with uncanny similarities to the history of his ancestors. She interviewed Wilson serval times before his death and traces his life from his childhood in Pittsburgh (where nine of the plays take place) to Broadway. She also interviewed scores of friends, theatre colleagues and family members l, and conducted extensive research to tell the story of a writer who left an indelible imprint on American theatre and opened the door for future playwrights of color.

Patti Hartigan is an award winning theatre critic and arts reporter who spent many years on the staff of The Boston Globe. She divides her time between Boston area and Charlottesville, VA. | Simon & Schuster Publishing.

CARTER™️ Magazine carter-mag.com #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #historyandhiphop365 #cartermagazine #blackhistory #augustwilson #blackhistorymonth #staywoke

[musicman5234]

William Edward Chiaiese was born on October 20, 1934 to John and Emily Chiaiese(key-ah-tze) in Dorchester , Massachusetts . The family later moved to Squantum , Mass. John changed the family name to Chase, understanding that the Italian name Chiaiese was both hard to spell and pronounce.

While Bill was growing up his parents felt that he needed to broaden his horizons and arranged for him to take violin lessons. Bill did not even touch the trumpet, until the middle of his high school years. A newspaper clipping dated 1956 pictures Bill listed as a Corporal in the 26th Yankee Infantry Division Band holding a bass drum. Bill's experience as a drummer changed his life and the lives of many others. During a St. Patrick's Day parade he had to lug his huge drum for five miles enduring the miserably cold pouring rain. It hurt so bad that he decided never to do it again, he asked his father to dig out his old trumpet for him.

Not long after switching to trumpet, Bill was playing first chair in the school orchestra and classical music was his main love. Early 1950's a neighbor coaxed Bill to attend a Stan Kenton concert with him. This was the band with Maynard Ferguson, Buddy Childers, Conte Condoli, etc. After that night, Bill was hooked on jazz and high note trumpet.

As you can tell, this time period in Bills life is hard to decipher. Bill was doing so much playing, and he became very good so quickly, that the dates are very confusing. Since Maynard left the Kenton Band and headed to Hollywood in 1953, Bill must have seen Kenton before then. I can only assume that he switched to the trumpet around 1951 at about the age of 16.

Boston Globe writer Ernie Santosuosso wrote about Bill in 1971, “Bill Chase has been experimenting with sounds all of his life. As a youngster in the Fields Corner community of Dorchester , he was intrigued by the drums. Since he didn’t own a set, he’d improvise with the aid of a couple of galvanized steel rubbish barrels.

Bill’s backyard became his bandstand as he beat out precocious rhythms atop the inverted barrels. The little Italian lady, who sat at her kitchen window, regarded Bill as a pet but voiced emphatic objections to his make-shift paraddidling on the barrels. So, when Bill’s father, who played trumpet, decided to retire his horn, the boy’s curiosity inevitably led him to the instrument and away from the barrel- house. The maturation process as a trumpeter had begun for Bill.

The ex-drummer put his horn to work for St. Ambrose’s Band, then for Boston English High, Berklee, Stan Kenton, Maynard Ferguson, and Woody Herman. The little old Italian lady was given special command performances in her kitchen and she almost lit a candle in thanksgiving for young Bill’s return to his barrels and rubbish deposits.”

He started playing his fathers old trumpet the summer before his junior year in high school and showed a natural aptitude for it. He soon joined a Drum and Bugle Corps, along with his school groups. This, was prior to his stint in the Boston National Guard where he said he wrote music and played trumpet in 1957. He served for six months in the guard band, which honed his talents as a trumpeter and arranger.

Chase played lead trumpet with Maynard Ferguson in 1958, Stan Kenton in 1959, and Woody Herman's Thundering Herd during the 1960s.

One of Chase's charts from this period, "Camel Walk", was published in the 1963 Downbeat magazine yearbook. From 1966 to 1970 he freelanced in Las Vegas, working with Vic Damone and Tommy Vig. In 1967 he led a six-piece band at the Dunes and Riviera Hotel where he was featured in the Frederick Apcar lounge production of Vive Les Girls, for which Chase arranged the music.

In 1971 he started a jazz rock band named "Chase" that mixed pop, rock, blues, and four trumpets.[5] The debut album Chase was released in April 1971. Chase was joined by Ted Piercefield, Alan Ware, and Jerry Van Blair, three jazz trumpeters who were adept at vocals and arranging. They were backed up by a rhythm section consisting of Phil Porter on keyboards, Angel South on guitar, Dennis Johnson on bass, and John "Jay Burrid" Mitthaur on percussion. Rounding out the group was Terry Richards, who was the lead vocalist on the first album. The album contains Chase's most popular song, "Get It On", released as a single that spent 13 weeks on the charts beginning in May 1971. The song features what Jim Szantor of Downbeat magazine called "the hallmark of the Chase brass—complex cascading lines; a literal waterfall of trumpet timbre and technique." The band received a Best New Artist Grammy nomination, but was edged out by rising star Carly Simon.

Chase released their second album, Ennea, in March 1972; the album's title is the Greek word for nine, a reference to the nine band members. The original lineup changed midway through the recording sessions, with Gary Smith taking over on drums and G. G. Shinn replacing Terry Richards on lead vocals. The third album, Pure Music, moved the band toward jazz. Two of the songs were written or co-written by Jim Peterik of the Ides of March, who also sings on the album, along with singer and bassist Dartanyan Brown.

Chase's work on a fourth studio album in mid-1974 came to an end on August 9, 1974. While en route to a scheduled performance at the Jackson County Fair, Chase died in the crash of a chartered twin-engine Piper Twin Comanche in Jackson, Minnesota, at the age of 39. The pilot and co-pilot were killed, as were keyboardist Wally Yohn, guitarist John Emma, and drummer Walter Clark.

Source: Kevin Seeley/Wikipedia

[frydawolff]

I have been an ardent Edward Gorey fan my entire life (his were among my baby books) and it’s not until now that I’m learning he was a fabulous cat daddy???? This explains so much about goths.

A pilgrimage I need to make: The Edward Gorey House

Although Gorey illustrated and wrote many children's books, he did not associate himself with children and had no particular fondness for them. Gorey never married, professed little interest in romance, and never discussed any specific romantic relationships in interviews.[citation needed]

In Alexander Theroux's memoir of his friendship with Gorey, The Strange Case of Edward Gorey, published after Gorey's death, Theroux recalled that when Gorey was pressed on the matter of his sexual orientation by "a rude Boston Globe reporter," he replied, "I don't even know." Theroux is referring to Lisa Solod's interview with Gorey ("Edward Gorey: The Cape's master teller of macabre tales discusses death, decadence, and homosexuality"), which appeared in the September 1980 issue of Boston magazine, not the Globe. Gorey's exact words, in response to Solod's question, "What are your sexual preferences?" were, "Well, I'm neither one thing nor the other particularly. I suppose I'm gay. But I don't really identify with it much."[25] At this point, Solod notes that he laughed. (Nowhere in the Solod interview does he say, "I don't even know.") Solod then asks, "Why not?" To which Gorey replies, "I am fortunate in that I am apparently reasonably undersexed or something. I do not spend my life picking up people on the streets. I was always reluctant to go to the movies with one of my friends because I always expected the police to come and haul him out of the loo at one point or the other. I know people who lead really outrageous lives. I've never said I was gay, and I've never said I wasn't. A lot of people would say that I wasn't because I never do anything about it." Shortly thereafter, he says, "What I'm trying to say is that I am a person before I am anything else."

Gorey left the bulk of his estate to a charitable trust benefiting cats and dogs, as well as other species, including bats and insects.

-Wikipedia

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[honey-n-melanin]

Artist Statement

My artwork captures the beauty that is black women, femininity, and the gift of nature. As a young black female artist, I explore the balance between simplicity and complicated details of what makes women like myself beautiful. As a child, I struggled with my identity and self-love. Through years of self-discovery and community building, I found that I was blind to what was always in front of me. I am fascinated with highlighting and exposing the uniqueness and desirability of black women intertwined with nature because we are connected. I focus on the use of bright, funky, loud colors to emphasize the vibrancy of the space or individual I portray a glimpse of.  My artwork is composed of a variety of mediums including acrylic paint, magazine collage, digital art, and sharpies.  

CV

Education: Mckay Arts Acadamy 2011-2015

Awards: Gold Key- The Boston Globe Scholastic Art & Writing Award 2013  

Gold Key- The Boston Globe Scholastic Art & Writing Award 2014  

Fitchburg Cultural Alliance Janet Cragin Arts Award 2014

Exhibitions: Boston Muesum of Fine Arts 2013

808 Gallery at Boston University 2013

Boston Museum of Fine Arts 2014

808 Gallery at Boston University 2014  

[ecoamerica]

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