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justgeorgeharrisonfic · 2 years

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An Unexpected Conversation

The date was the 29th November 2002, and the time was 1.30 in the afternoon. It was hot. Pattie had retreated into a patch of shade and had drawn a scarf over her head and arms to protect her from the heat of the sun. She would not normally have elected to sit on a mountainside in Peru in their summer in the heat of the day, but she had no choice today. The Concert for George was starting right now, a few thousand miles and six hours away, and this was how she had chosen to honour him. Not to sit in the crowded Royal Albert Hall, enduring all the glances of recognition and curiosity from friends and strangers alike, and not to attempt dry-eyed stoicism as each song being played up on the stage ripped at her heart. Here she was alone, and her grief was hers alone.

A sharp breeze riffled the chiffon scarf around her head and she drew it closer as she gazed across the panoramic view which spread out below her feet. She knew she was safe here, she’d chosen her spot well, but nevertheless sat still and careful, her back pressed against the rock behind her; she had never been good with heights. She remembered how George had giggled at her when they first boarded their boat in Tahiti and she’d hung on grimly for fear of falling. She’d got used to it after a day, or maybe two days to be honest, and was soon clambering around the beams like a pro.

The memory brought the familiar sharp stinging to her eyes. The tears were nearly always just below the surface, they came so easily now. As the breeze stroked her cheeks the tears, allowed to fall freely here, now, dried around the creases to the side of her nose and mouth. She embraced the complete luxury of being able to weep with no-one around to try to console her and no-one for whom she had to be brave. Pattie sat on her mountainside and cried and cried for George. She listened to her own sobbing and she cried some more.

The pain seemed unendurable. A year was too long. She wanted him back on this world.

“I am.”

The voice was unmistakable. She’d heard it nearly every night in her dreams. Millions knew that voice as well as their own. Near the end it had lost its quality, its timbre, and the words had rasped through pain. But this…

Her head whipped to one side towards the direction of the voice, with the result that she turned right into the scarf and her face was completely covered. Through the folds of chiffon though she thought she could see something. But she certainly could hear something. It was laughing. It was George laughing. It was George laughing at her.

She thrust the scarf out of the way and blinked at what looked for all the world like George Harrison, sitting next to her. Checked shirt. Hair brushed back. Not her George then…

What on earth…?

“What…?” She could do nothing but gawp. The thing that looked like George grinned.

“What are you laughing at?” She heard herself snap. She was apparently cross at something that wasn’t there. What was happening?

“You. You’re all snotty with a scarf over your face.”

“I’m…” This thing that wasn’t real was now insulting her.

“But you’re still gorgeous.” At that, the… whatever it was…stopped grinning at her and instead looked out over the view, hands clasped and arms wrapped around his upturned knees.

Pattie could do nothing but stare at him. At… it? It couldn’t be real. It obviously wasn’t real. But… what was this sitting and talking to her and looking like George?

And shouldn’t she be terrified? It was some kind of… ghost… sitting in front of her and talking to her.

“Not really.” He turned back to look at her, and said, “I’m not a ghost. I’m not haunting you.” He grinned again. “I’ve just come to see you.”

You’ve…” What could she say? Does she have a normal conversation with this…?

“You might as well,” the ghost who said he wasn’t a ghost interrupted. “Since I’m here.”

Pattie buried her face in her hands and sat for a while, all rational thoughts suspended. All that was going through what was left of her mind was that he sounded just like George. George’s common sense. George’s laugh.

He was right. She might as well. But all she could then think to say was, “You should be in London! It’s your concert.”

At that he burst out laughing again, but then turned once more to face her. “I am,” he said. “I’m there too. I can be in two places at once, you know.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. But I can.”

She looked at him, carefully. Fear, or the thought of fear, was gone. As he’d said, she might as well… “Are you alright? I mean…”

“I know what you mean.” The familiar dark eyes regarded her, the familiar piercing and penetrating gaze. The one that always used to make her feel as if he truly understood her. “And, yes. I am.” And he smiled again; she saw the dimple appear in his cheek, just like before.

There were so many questions she could, or should, ask someone who’d just turned up from beyond the grave after a year’s absence. Profound issues. The meaning of life. And death. So she thought, and pondered… and gave up. And simply asked instead, “Why did you come here? Just now? To me? “She searched his face, waited whilst he looked back at her.

“You needed me.”

“I’ve needed you before.”

“You mean since…?”

“Yes. Why here, and now?”

Again, he shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do. Here. And now. You were… upset.”

Then Pattie found her heart and her mind stabbed, pierced, by a thought which sounded in her head almost as a scream and the strength and pain of which made her gasp. She wrenched her gaze away from him and stared out at the stunning view which stretched out below her as she grappled with the emotional intensity. Yet, not surprisingly, as he seemed to have the ability to hear her thoughts as clearly as though she’d spoken them aloud, his voice, his dear familiar voice, brought her gaze back to meet his.

“Okay,” he said, his voice gentle. “Say it.” Then he waited.

It was a while before she could speak. All her instincts fought to prevent her from saying what she had thought, what she wanted to say. But that was stupid. She knew it was. Because, it seemed, he already knew it all. She blinked hard to fight back tears. She breathed deeply to give herself courage. He’d told her to say it. So, she said it.

“You didn’t care…” her voice wobbled, so she paused until she could steady it. “You didn’t care about me being upset when… you were alive.”

God, that sounded weird. When you were alive. This was crazy. What was she doing? What was happening? What…

“Go on.” The voice was still calm, still gentle. She looked up at him, something she had never never been able to do when having a harsh conversation before, but she did it and she continued because, unlike ever before, he was inviting her to do so.

“You didn’t care,” she kept her voice even and steady this time and was proud of herself. “You didn’t care when you brought her to the house. And kept her there. All those days.”

“Charlotte.”

“Yes!” And she lost the even and the steady, and heard her own voice shrill and snapping. “Have you any idea…?”

She couldn’t go on, but sat, exhausted now and limp and shaking. She’d never said this to him before.

Why had she never said this to him before?

“Why didn’t you?”

Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and she simply shook her head. But it seemed that he wasn’t going to let it go. Not this time.

“Pattie. Why didn’t you?”

She looked at him, vision blurred. She swallowed. Then said, “Did you come all the way back for me to be having a go at you?”

He smiled. “You’re changing the subject,” he said. “You often did that.”

She thought about that. “Yes. I suppose I did.” She thought some more. “You never picked me up on it. You never followed up.”

“I am now.”

“But…” And paused. He had asked her a question. A good question. Just difficult, as she’d never put the answer into words. Even though people had asked her. Jenny had asked her. Terry.

Eric.

“I was… scared. I didn’t know if I could face what would happen.” She thought a moment more. Waiting for memories of agony to clarify. “If… you’d chosen her. Or any of them. Or…” Now crowds of thoughts began to tumble into her brain and she worried they would overwhelm her, might…

“It’s fine.” The voice was just as gentle, just as reassuring. “Say it,” he said again.

“I didn’t know if I could face the answers.” She blurted it out, and then knew it to be true. She’d been afraid of pushing it, all of it, afraid, in case she’d lost. In case she hadn’t wanted to hear his answers. “I was just… fingers in my ears la la la, until it was all over and I was back with you again and you had your arms around…” And she couldn’t go on because the tears, the keening sobs, erupted with the force of Vesuvius and she could only put her head onto her upturned knees and cry and cry. The sobbing tore at her chest and her throat and her eyes and she wondered if she could bear it. “I loved you so much,” she tried to say but the words were as drowned as her eyes. Yet,

“I know.” He’d heard her. Astonishingly, because she wouldn’t have understood what she’d said, that’s for sure. They both waited for some calm. Eventually,

“Did you love me?”

“You know I did.”

She still couldn’t look up at him. “No I didn’t.”

“Pattie.” He paused, but still her face was buried in the folds of her skirt. “Please look at me.” She breathed deep, swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and fumbled in her bag for something resembling a tissue. Were there any leaves around…? “Look at me.”

She found that she could raise her head and turn towards him, though familiar fear clutched her heart.

“I should have let you know I loved you. I took you for granted. It wasn’t your fault.” He paused, waiting perhaps for her to reply but there were no words so he continued. “I was a shit.”

She, almost, smiled.” “You said that to me, then.”

“I’m saying it again now.”

“The cooking.”

If ghosts, or whatever he was, could look surprised, then he looked surprised. “Cooking??”

Pattie shifted her position so that she could face he more, be more emphatic. “I loved cooking for you. And, that was all you left me. You chanted all the time, you didn’t talk to me for days, but I could still give you food and that was important and then you got… him...that other man, to cook for you and there was nothing left for me to do and it was all gone…” Tears returned. Her head ached. Her eyes burned.

“Why didn’t you say?”

This time she was more ready with the answer; it was, after all, the same answer. “I didn’t want to start a row. I didn’t want to know what you’d say, you’d have said I was being silly, you’d have said I was making it all up, like with Krissie, and I wasn’t…” Now she was shouting.

He… it?...was quiet, still. It gave her time to calm a little and reflect. And a thought popped into her head so she voiced it; another novelty for her, a person whose custom had always been instead to crawl into her room and brood. “You were cross when you found me with Eric that night.”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Why was I cross?”

“Yes.”

“My wife with another man? Who wouldn’t be?”

She turned to him, as far as she dared on what felt like her precarious ledge. “He was going on and on. And you never spoke to me. You never tried to make it better. It ended up that I couldn’t see any reason not to. You weren’t there, and he was.”

“I know.”

“George!” Even at the distance of a year and a death, she still found herself becoming exasperated and confused. “Why?? Why didn’t you try to get me back? You’ve just said you did love me. So why didn’t you try? Why??”

He looked out over the view again, before turning back towards her. “I was a mess,” he offered.

“Too much coke.”

“Too much everything.”

“But…”

“Pattie, I’m not defending myself here. I’m not here to defend myself.” He smiled, faintly. You remember that song? You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone?”

She nodded.

“That was me. I took you for granted, I was full of what I thought I was at that time - Krishna with all his women – I thought I could get away with anything. And then, you weren’t there. And then, I knew how much I’d loved you all the time.”

“So…” She paused to assemble her words. “What would you have said, what would you have done, if… if I had said it all? If I’d told you to get Charlotte out. What would you have done if I’d said, get her out?”

He smiled at her again, another small and gentle smile. “I don’t know,” he offered eventually. “It never happened, did it. I don’t know.” He paused again. “It would have been good, to find out. What I’d have done. I think…” Another pause, and then, “I think, I’d have got her out.”

Pattie stared at him. “So I should have tried.”

“That’s up to you.”

Pattie sat next to whatever that image of George was and allowed the words and thoughts to absorb into her. She wondered whether she felt better or worse, and decided that it would be a while before she could know that. Yet one thing she knew she needed to say, and she turned towards him again. “Thank you. For coming to talk to me.”

She basked yet again in the beloved George grin. “Pattie, I’m always here.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“What, on this mountain?”

A peal of laughter. “No, silly! Wherever you are.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes again, and she blinked back at him. She nodded. “That’s good. Good to know.”

Her gaze swept across the spectacular view once more, but then another question darted into her mind and she turned back to him. “But…”

She was alone on the mountainside. He’d gone, to wherever he’d come from. The Royal Albert Hall? She smiled to herself amidst the new tears. She wrapped herself more tightly in the folds of her scarf and leaned back against the rock and let her heart go out to him, wherever he was.

“Thanks, George,” she said aloud. And then waited until she felt ready to clamber to her feet and make her way down towards real people, and real life and, at last, some real peace of mind.

#George Harrison #Pattie Boyd #beatles fanfiction #fantasy #after death #beravement #grief

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fairuzfan · 5 months

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yeah, my uni has basically bullied all the Pro Palestine students, and the SWANA students (especially the Palestinian ones) into silence or threatened them with expulsion on the basis of “antisemitism”. They’ve done this to the Jewish students at the school too, to everyone. But I think it’s harder on the Palestinian and other SWANA students (obviously the Palestinians have it the worst in this regard) because that’s their land. Those are their people. That’s their community. I know someone who wishes so badly to go back to her home in Khan Younis, but obviously can’t because of what’s happening and her home is most likely gone by now or is extremely different from what she remembered. Now she has to deal with our college silencing her and her community and the supporters of her community. Western academia is demonic.

And I'm speaking as someone who intends to stay involved within western academic spaces, these spaces are fundamentally arms of the imperial machine. I have entered discussions with archivists and librarians where I said they needed to do better in how they describe their content and they just straight up said its not their responsibility. Being passive is not a morally correct thing to be!!!

Just straight up silencing Palestinians in our schools who I KNOW have lost family and are absolutely beraved are completely ignored and in some cases even hated and harrassed. Truly we see the worst and worst of people each time new atrocities come to light.

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444names · 2 years

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roman emperors forenames + the entire wikipedia article about javanais, original & encoded in - you guessed it - javanais

Abavame Abaves Abavisevers Ablatests Aemblese Aftabavos Aftavixed Aftellang Allace Alleris Alted Ancern Angly Anunce Aravabecome Aravearn Arciands Ariculd Artabolava Artines Asidavian Atavade Atavixener Audidionian Auguagnus Auravomerel Aurel Aurge Aurian Averseng Bation Bavan Bavar Bavaros Bavaven Bavaviany Bavavis Bavay Bavaze Bavemble Bavoly Bavuelly Beraveing Berus Bocat Bomplavan Cabasible Cabavavuld Cabavavus Cabayines Caderefer Calbavosed Canaveques Canuence Caravan Carcidaven Cartavounds Carustian Cavallos Cavanaved Cavany Cavavava Cavavende Cavavins Cavavonius Cavavos Cavavosian Caved Cavencalus Caver Cavers Caverse Cavethavang Cavian Cavics Cavide Cavine Cavisavaver Cavixed Cavolavick Cavorde Cavow Cavuellius Cavuener Cavundan Chaderus Chavounde Colavavel Colaveted Comavales Comavv Commos Conaviance Craving Cravoys Dabavan Dabavers Dabecavuage Davavave Davaviang Davavome Daved Daveravaze Daverest Daverius Davern Daves Daviands Davich Daviscus Davorius Dayinius Deciuse Didaved Dosephocode Dossavulus Emble Empla Emplang Enstas Evabavomice Eveheonst Evenswed Evervalius Exame Exavarn Exavavios Exaves Extrius Fasius Favace Favist Favour Fixavavome Folavavus Folavenes Folavus Fordiusaven Gabavery Gabavuld Gabeing Gaiscus Gaish Galbi Galsame Galsavust Gavabe Gavabi Gavaled Gavokavitle Gavoll Gavuench Gorius Graclius Grava Gravay Graved Gravian Grossios Hatinguld Hatur Havantong Havimich Havuagnus Hemble Henanavuch Heodava Heodavame Heriano Heriantion Hocaring Hocavest Hodossame Hords Infirs Ingla Inslabavuen Intith Isavavaists Itavunds Ithavubst Itins Itustavo Itusting Javan Javano Javar Javav Javavavanas Javen Javin Javos Javoun Javour Javuenting Jound Julan Justs Labay Laurac Lavames Lavanus Lavave Laveris Lavetavow Laviostily Lavour Lavulavubst Lavulus Liany Liatc Libed Licarcus Liustanv Lyravible Macle Madern Majavillian Mantionus Mantits Maraved Marciuse Maronos Marting Mavan Mavat Mavaved Mavaverefer Maved Maven Mavis Mavour Mavually Maxed Maxioste Merge Milis Miustianais Modord Monastible Mulavis Naverg Navurg Nerus Nican Nikos Noravaved Noter Nothra Ollavo Onsions Ordions Orics Orist Oroman Otherge Paravick Paravounce Paraze Parehabius Parta Pavan Pavancer Pavavunds Pavavéning Paver Paverian Paverius Paverse Pavery Pavicadete Pavins Pavion Pavit's Peavan Pethencius Philicing Phily Phost Phostle Plabavos Plavame Plavan Pleace Plencavuch Ploys Poparazens Praving Praze Pronius Pronsla Pronswery Pular Pulus Punciand Pénikeptics Qavit Quenavenes Quiner Quing Ravans Ravavan Ravenavers Raviblerse Ravor Ravos Regulagnus Rehavequest Rence Robus Ronswell Rulestly Rustus Saaciano Saacidecon Sabavastius Sabaves Sanno Savabe Savale Savans Savavan Savayinich Savaze Saved Savel Saver Saveraved Saverour Savers Savilien Savinaing Savisaves Savocabeing Savoll Savoravues Savord Savos Savotheo Savoula Savounastur Savourgetit Senavon Sequinible Slatel Slavics Slavit's Somple Sompleris Sonswavos Spare Spaver Spaves Spavow Spearavus Sponius Suage Suggetests Sugulat Syleximice Table Tavabour Tavame Tavaring Tavavinstly Taventilius Tavese Taviminerg Tavos Tavostyle Tavothavos Thaba Thabavan Thadery Thavabast Thavavible Thave Thavinsions Thavommodus Themblay Themploys Theng Thentinting Theod Theodecit's Theonjavow Theopavance Thern Thocome Thontibled Thravos Tionjoving Travaviong Traverse Traves Travian Traviang Travios Trener Trice Unavatabius Ustitus Ustleros Vamplarn Vannavarcus Varonsible Vatian Vattab Vattes Vaver Vavichocle Vavordavale Verians Vidaves Vinustavavo Vocalv Vokence Wavable Waval Wavan Waveavo Wavend Waves Waviangule Wavoman Wavossius Wavost Whaba Whaempren Whavefavios Whaves Whavish Whavowel Wherise Whicintian Witavan Withen Witianus Worace Wravanned Wrosts Yaverg Yestanv Zence

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crristinaa-level6 · 2 months

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MJ: Research beaches

Top 5 plastic wasted items found on beaches - The worst is not what you think

In the past 35 years, the International Coastal Cleanup project, led by a non-profit organization, has mobilized 17 million volunteers worldwide. Together, they have amassed a staggering 350 million pounds of trash from beaches and waterways. Utilizing this extensive dataset, the organization has compiled a list of the top ten most frequently collected items by ICC volunteers. Brace yourself, as the number one item on this list might catch you off guard.

5. Bottle Caps - 16,903,325 items

- While the focus on recycling typically centres on beverage bottles, the hard twist-top lids accompanying them often pose greater challenges for recycling.

- Despite their small size, these plastic twist-top lids can pose significant threats to local wildlife, as sea birds, marine mammals, and fish frequently mistake them for food, leading to potentially fatal consequences.

4. Plastic Bags - 21,538,520

- Recycling single-use plastic bags is challenging and often expensive.

- Despite these challenges, an estimated 5 trillion single-use plastic bags are used globally yearly.

- These bags can clog essential stormwater systems when entering the environment.

- Additionally, marine animals may mistake them for jellyfish, leading to potential harm or ingestion issues.

3. Berave bottles - 21,810,732 items

- Globally, approximately one million plastic bottles are bought every minute.

- Despite attempts to improve recyclability, less than one-third of plastic bottles used in the United States are recycled.

- Plastic water bottles commonly contain BPAs, harmful chemicals that can leach into drinking water and disrupt hormone balance.

- Using BPA-free reusable bottles is advisable to mitigate health risks associated with plastic bottle usage.

2. Food wrappers - 28,445,467 items

- Food wrappers pose a greater challenge for consumers to avoid compared to other listed trash items.

- Nick Mallos, senior director of Ocean Conservancy's Trash Free Seas program, highlights that while consumers can take steps like recycling plastic bottles and using reusable bags, avoiding disposable plastic food wrappers is more difficult.

- Manufacturers have primarily focused their research and efforts on disposable plastic food wrappers to ensure food freshness, safety, and accessibility.

- Mallos emphasizes the urgent need to accelerate research and development of packaging solutions that are not destined for landfills and prioritize the health and safety of both people and oceans.

1. Cigarette buts - 59,398, 908 items

- Topping the list as the most prevalent form of ocean plastic in the report are cigarette butts.

- Despite the widespread disposal of cigarette butts on the ground, these discarded remnants pose significant threats to coastal environments.

- Most cigarette filters are composed of cellulose acetate, a plastic-like material known for its slow degradation.

#major project #visual communication

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binders-and-beanies · 1 year

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My grief and beravement class (which I jokingly refer to as grievy bereavy but that’s not the point) has had me increasingly thinking bout specializing in grief counseling bc 1) it’s smth I’m passionate about and can empathize with and actually respect different approaches to grief 2) I like that the training and implementation of it is a clear process of steps, I NEED guidelines for whatever my future job is and 3) people constantly ask what exactly I wanna do with my degree and I dont KNOW that’s why I’m in school to figure it out. And this is the closest I’ve gotten to “figuring it out” other than I’d love to be a sex therapist but u can’t really say that at family gatherings n shit. + as passionate as I am abt sex stuff it’s a lot more ambiguous whereas grief counseling is obviously,, messy but generally a lot more clear cut. Anyways I thought abt it again bc I remembered when I went thru a phase as a teen of wanting to be a mortician and I find it inch resting how I’ve come back around to wanting my job to relate to death but in a completely different way

#ik im rambling im just. documenting #my class rn is on ‘normal grief’ and u need a masters to treat traumatic grief and. im getting a masters anyway so im thinking abt it #mine #txt #personal

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teengriefsucks · 3 years

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It’s okay to laugh, to cry, to be joyful, to be sad, to be happy, to feel anything. You don’t have to be sad all the time to grieve.

Natalie Adams, “It’s Okay to Laugh”

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finding-hope-strength-courage · 3 years

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To Those In Heaven - Written By Me; Aged 14, 2006

I love you all too much for words to say,

I really wish you didn’t have to go away,

I want you back more than you’ll ever know,

You said you’d be with me wherever I go!

This is to those in Heaven,