#flood city festival 2020

[takearisk-xo]

Day 7: Lover written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3

a version of this has existed since may of 2020 and it feels so good to finally put it into the universe after sitting on it for three (THREE!) years... i have a feeling i will continue this at some point and hopefully turn it into a full blow fic, but until then, enjoy some non-traditional, pandemic themed, sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics <33

They said it started in China. At the annual festival in Shanghai. 

Some experts claimed the mutation originated because of an uncharacteristically dry winter. Some blamed climate change. Others said it was all part of the cyclical nature of the earth. A purification process. Nature taking its course. 

The more hysterically minded said it was the end of the fucking world. 

Either way, Ginny watched in horror with the rest of Edinburgh as more and more reports flooded the news.

All across the northern hemisphere, the cherry trees were blossoming, and people were going mad.

~~~

The thing about fear was that it spread like wildfire. 

Grocery stores emptied of necessities overnight. The Prime Minister issued stay at home orders, some of the more populated areas even attempted a voluntary curfew. Borders were closed, air traffic came to a grinding halt, restaurants were instructed to only offer takeout, and any non-essential businesses were told to close their doors entirely. 

For a while, it all felt over-cautious. 

At least until the first case hit Cardiff. 

They said the little omega lasted three days in a severe heat until the pain and the dehydration finally rendered her unconscious. Her family rushed her to the emergency room and it was another two days before the hospital identified what was happening to her. They said before she was quarantined, she infected almost thirty people, nine of them hospital staff. 

It spread from twenty-nine confirmed cases to over three-hundred within a week, three-hundred became eight-thousand within the month.

And that was just Wales.

~~~

Birmingham was the third city to reach critical levels of contamination, after Liverpool and Manchester. 

They projected a global spread, the more densely populated areas being hit first. Each day the estimates increased, predicting numbers so catastrophic, there hadn’t been anything like it in over five-hundred years.

The real test, however, was London. 

There were reports that all the major cabinet members had been moved to separate and secure locations. That way if any of them contracted the sickness, at the very least, they wouldn’t infect the rest of the country's leaders. 

The worst part was nobody seemed to know anything. Records of the last pandemic were inconclusive or didn’t exist. No one knew how long the sickness lasted or how debilitating it really was. Less reliable news sources even reported deaths when the first wave hit eastern China, rumours spreading of alphas ripping each other apart over the chance to mate an omega.

But that’s all they were. 

Rumours. 

~~~

Designation had never mattered much to Ginny. It was just something stamped on her birth certificate next to seven pounds two ounces, eighteen inches long. Her ruts weren’t dramatic events, they were hardly even a disruption. Four times a year, she’d get the urge, use her fingers on herself three nights in a row and wait out the subsequent five days of bleeding.

Designation also hasn’t mattered to the world in decades. Suppressants went out of fashion after the turn of the century, the human race’s more animalistic instincts fading with each generation until the ruts and heats became nothing more than quarterly nuisances. Only a very small percentage of the population still needed herbs and homoeopathic blockers to get by, the rest went about their lives business as usual.

Humanity had evolved past such trivial things as Alpha, Beta, and Omega. 

But now, it was all anyone could talk about.

~~~

Dawdling around the townhouse, Ginny took her frustrations out in the form of kneading a lumpy, soon to be loaf of bread while half listening to the news. Her television emitted a scratchy noise every few seconds, but for a dumpster dive, it worked fine enough. Especially since for the six weeks she’d been stuck at home, she’d hardly turned the damn thing off. 

It wasn’t so much that she was dedicated to being informed, she just couldn’t bear the silence.

No honking cars, no nosy tourists, no shouting street vendors.

It was quiet in an uncomfortable way, in an unnatural way. In a way that left Ginny too much alone with her own thoughts. 

As she punched the dough down as hard as she could, her telly warbled out an odd static followed by the evening news anchor chatting animatedly with a couple who supposedly recovered from the sickness.

“And you think having each other,” the journalist asked in disbelief, “helped speed up your recovery?” 

“We realise it sounds a bit crazy, we aren’t even sure if there is science to support it–” a male voice responded. He sounded rational enough even though what he was saying went against every directive of social distancing. “But I’m an alpha, and my wife is an omega. When we both came down with it, we decided to stay home and wait it out together. Within a week or so we felt completely back to normal...”

Ginny snorted. The hospitals reported the illness lasting between twelve to fifteen days, not seven. And what were their credentials besides claiming to have been infected? The news station could interview anyone off the street. They’d probably interview her if she claimed she danced naked, covered in chicken’s blood beneath the full moon and it spared her. If anything, the segment was irresponsible. Now people were going to go out looking for a sex partner for the week.

Sighing at the downturn in journalistic integrity, she tuned out the rest of the interview, content to bask in the early May breeze wafting through the open windows.

Until she heard the squeak of brakes slow to a stop out front. 

And muffled voices. 

Followed by a car door slamming shut. 

She’d just begun to wonder which bluenose neighbour had arrived to hole up in a holiday house when footsteps scuffed up the stone walk, her stone walk, and a key slid into the lock of her front door.

The knob turned, the door clicked open, and Ginny stood rooted to the spot, covered in flour as her landlord (slash older brother’s best mate) appeared framed on the stoop. 

At first, Harry didn’t notice her. He stepped inside, careful to scrub his shoes on the mat before closing the door behind him and dropping his duffle unceremoniously in the foyer. He looked the same as he had nearly a year ago. He scratched a hand through the disaster hair piled atop his head then patted it all down again. His glasses were the same, and he still had the same little divot permanently etching his brow into a scowl. Beneath his anorak she could tell his lean frame still gave way to lanky limbs that shifted into slender fingers. 

Then the telly switched programs, the News giving way to some crime documentary, or something. Ginny wasn’t actually paying attention. At the change in music, Harry froze with his back halfway to her and his shoulders went tight. 

Then he turned on the spot, and he finally registered Ginny’s presence tucked away in the kitchen at the back of the house.

Their gazes held for several beats too long, both of them wide-eyed and startled by the existence of the other in such close proximity. 

Ginny’s heart thundered inside her chest, in a way that was achingly familiar and entirely unwelcome. 

“What are you– I didn’t think–” Harry stammered quickly. “Ron said he was meeting you back home?”

“He was,” Ginny answered, just as flustered. “I’d planned on it but– I couldn’t– I mean, I…changed my mind.”

Harry dug his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses and swore softly. He looked a bit peaky.  

“Christ, I’m an idiot,” He croaked. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured, not quite sure why she was pardoning his intrusion. “It’s still your house.”

They stared at each other in the silence for several beats too long, both of them seemingly at a loss for what to do next. 

“Er–” Harry finally stammered, a grin taking over his face. “Hi, by the way.”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah... long time, no see.”

They went in for a hug at the same time, but it was too light and too quick to feel natural. As he pulled away, Harry averted his gaze and let his eyes wander around the hall and the front two rooms. 

“Is Luna…” he trailed off, as if those two words were question enough. 

Ginny realised she was still covered in baking powder and half finished dough. She grabbed a tea towel from the hook and wiped her hands just for something to look at besides him. “She and her Dad were visiting family in Hamburg when the stay at home orders hit. She’s been stuck there for over a month. They can’t get a flight home.”

Harry nodded and let out a deep exhale of sympathy. “Fuck, yeah, that’d be awful.” He paused, shooting her a furtive glance. “And you? How–how are you?”

“Yeah, fine,” One half of her mouth tipped into a smile. “You?”

Shaking his head as if in thought, his hands fidgeted slightly in front of him. “Well, London is a disaster. They aren’t letting anyone leave their homes, or letting anyone into town. They���re letting people leave, but it took me ten days just to get approval to hop a train. I figured it couldn’t be so bad up here, you know? That’s why I…”

He trailed off again and Ginny wondered if he’d become incapable of finishing a coherent sentence in the time since she’d seen him last. 

“Makes sense,” she nodded generously. 

Harry remained exactly where he was, awkwardly perched on the welcome mat. 

“You can come in,” Ginny asserted and he flinched a bit like he hadn’t expected to actually be allowed to stay. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat and stepped forward like a man walking the plank. 

Busying herself with the kettle, she tried not to be too aware of his progress through the sitting room. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wave to the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Ginny grinned. The house held tell-tale signs of being solely occupied by her for the last month and a half. Stray jumpers, and rumpled throw pillows, and forgotten cups of tea sat scattered all around. The dishes in the sink were piled several days too high and the bananas on her countertop were just a shade too brown. 

“It’s a disaster,” she corrected, pulling her last two bags of tea out of the cupboard. 

Harry flashed her a smile, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “I mean the furniture and things. The colours.”

“The colours?” she repeated incredulously. 

“Yeah,” he hummed, finally inching his way fully into the kitchen. He swallowed as his eyes settled on her once more. “It looks nice. Cosy.”

Snorting, she pulled her nearly empty carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “A sight better than when you and Ron lived here, you mean?”

That fleeting smirk again, there and then gone. “Do you know our sofa broke in two when we tried to move it out?”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest.”

Ginny poured and they both chuckled. She passed him one of the mugs and the milk, remembering how he took it. She reckoned it was one of those things she’d never forget. Like the opening to her favourite Spice Girls’ song, or her childhood phone number, or the rhymes to bonfire night. Two plus two equals four and Harry took his tea with milk, no sugar.

He tipped a splash into his cup, seemed to hesitate for a second, and then burst, “I can get a room. There’s got to be a hotel open in Old Town–”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ginny cut across him, spooning a heap of sugar into her own tea. Again, she wasn’t quite sure why she was contradicting him, but she refused to chase the thought down, because then she’d have to acknowledge that somewhere deep down she wanted him to stay. 

“Ginny,” he croaked. “I can’t intrude like this. I’ll figure something out. I’ll go stay at Sirius’ place in the country, or–”

“Harry,” she interrupted him again. “It’s your house.”

He seemed determined to put himself out. “But I can’t just show up out of the blue and–”

“Luna took your old room–” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I mean, you pay rent!” Now he was just talking to himself. “I had no right–”

“And she’s obviously not using it–” Ginny reasoned, though the ramifications of what she was suggesting crept up on her in a gradual recognition of awareness. 

“I bet the Chisholm Hunter has rooms–”

“Harry!” she cut across him in humoured agitation. “It’s fine. Stay tonight, or the next few days, or a week, until you figure it out. It’s fine.”

He blinked, the furrow between his brows deepening in thought. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she lied, like a liar. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was kind of a big deal, but she could handle it. 

“You said they aren’t letting people into London, right?” Ginny continued. “What are you going to do? Rent a room until they let you go back home? That could be months!”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it again and exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“Yeah, alright,” He conceded. “But only until I can get ahold of Sirius. Then, I swear, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The statement stung, just a little. As if getting out of her sight was vastly preferable than remaining in it. 

“Where is he?” Ginny asked instead, lifting her mug to her mouth as if completely unaffected. 

Harry pulled out his mobile and punched in his passcode. “Australia. Apparently their cherry trees don’t bloom until September.”

A scoff bubbled up in the back of her throat. “Lucky Australia.”

He muttered something that sounded like agreement and pressed the phone to his ear. As he meandered back into the sitting room, Ginny turned her cupboards in search of biscuits. Surely, she still had a package left somewhere. 

Harry returned within moments. “Didn’t answer.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Isn’t it like three in the morning?”

Harry gave her a flat look. “It’s Sirius.”

She laughed. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Something in his expression sparked at her reaction and it made the breath in her lungs go shallow. 

Just like his smiles, the flare of something was there and then gone in an instant. She tried not to feel the familiarity of it, really she did, but something hollowed out spread through her middle at the reminder of her nearly debilitating infatuation, and then its eventual collapse. 

Ginny cleared her throat, coming back to her senses. “So, you said it took you forever to get a train ticket. Have they decreased the routes?”

“Oh, erm–” Harry took a sip of tea that was clearly too hot for his mouth and he winced. “Yeah, and they’re checking into everyone who books.”

Understanding washed over her. “Right, so they make sure people aren’t…”

Great, now she was incapable of finishing her sentences. 

He looked to her uncomfortably. “I hadn’t actually ever seen my birth certificate, I just always figured I was a Beta. Had to have a Doctor check me over once to make sure I wasn’t — you know — that I hadn’t gone unidentified.” 

“Right, good. Nice.”

Why exactly was it nice? She should really stop talking. 

“Is that why you…” He gestured vaguely south with one hand. “Couldn’t…go home?”

“Oh, er-” Ginny resisted the urge to cringe. “No.”

In reality, she’d had plenty of time to book a train to Devon before they started restricting the passengers who were designated one way or the other, but she hadn’t had the funds.

Harry’s gaze sharpened in curiosity. 

“Do you want to put your stuff upstairs?” she asked brightly. “You must be knackered after travelling all day.”

~~~

Ginny retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against the sink. Shortly after Harry had settled into Luna’s room, his old room, she’d heard his mobile ring. His muffled voice through the mostly closed door had been maddening, and nearly too tempting to eavesdrop on, so she’d escaped. 

She was half-torn. One part of her wished Sirius was offering up his country house to his godson immediately, and the other part hoped there was some flood, or fire, or other natural disaster that made it inhabitable. 

Because the prospect of spending time with someone, but especially him; to not be alone hour after hour and day after day, was almost too exquisite to contemplate. 

Christ, she was hopeless. 

With nothing better to do than simmer in her own thoughts, Ginny turned the taps to the bath and adjusted the temperature until the shower spray was borderline scorching. She spent an excessive amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. She didn’t bother trying to figure out if she was doing it consciously or subconsciously, but she did know she was avoiding the end of her shower. Because as soon as she left the bath, she’d find out if he was staying or going. 

Both scenarios felt too formidable to contemplate. 

Eventually, though, the water ran cold, and Ginny couldn’t hide any longer. 

After brushing her teeth, applying night cream, and wrapping herself up in her dressing gown, Ginny yanked open the bathroom door to find Harry standing directly in the doorway, with his fist raised as if to knock. 

“Oh, sorry–” He muttered, his gaze flitting down her body and back up again. His face flushed just enough to notice. “That was Sirius,” he continued. “I can stay at his place, so I’ll be out of here as soon as I can book a train.” 

Ginny pulled in a breath and did her best to keep it even. “Right. Good.”

She felt anything but good. 

Squeezing past him and into the hallway, she kept her expression bright and open until she was safe inside her bedroom. 

In her haste, she missed the way his eyes fluttered shut as she passed. 

~~~

That night was unseasonably hot. The forecast had called for it to be a mild week, balmy and temperate, so Ginny wasn’t sure why the air wafting in through her open window felt so stifling. As she tossed and turned, a light sheen of sweat clung to her skin, and she contemplated the merits of another shower. This time a cold one. 

She settled for a glass of water instead. 

Padding down the hall toward the stairs, Ginny skirted past Luna’s room as quickly and quietly as she could. However, in the end, stealth didn’t matter.  

Harry was already in the kitchen, propped up against the sink and looking pale. 

“You okay?” Ginny muttered, taking a tentative step forward. 

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry kept his head down and nodded. “I don’t know what’s happened to my stomach. Food poisoning or something–”

“I may have some Pepti upstairs?”

Harry nodded again. 

She took a step closer, reaching for a glass from the shelf when the scent hit her. It smelled like fresh spring mornings, and the citrus of Earl Grey tea, and the warmth of never being alone. It smelled like home. 

Every instinct she had screamed at her to take in more of it, to surround herself in it. Harry’s eyes met hers through the dim light and she saw him pull in a deep inhale through flared nostrils. 

In an instant, her mind was restless and her body uncomfortably warm. Parts of her she didn’t know could ache, gnawed and cramped in time with her too loud pulse.

She dropped the glass she’d been holding at the same time Harry lept backwards. 

In some corner of her mind, she knew what was happening. All of the doctors listed the same symptoms over and over; heightened senses, irregular body temperature, lower-abdominal cramps, increased libido. However, she was firmly ignoring the signs… especially the last one. It was much easier to dismiss her body’s immediate urges as coincidence. Otherwise, she would also have to admit what triggered it. 

For fuck’s sake, Harry triggered it. 

But that would mean he–

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

#hinny #severalsunlitdaylights #hinny fic #a/b/o #harry/ginny #harry x ginny #my fic

[haljathefangirlcat]

As far as I know I follow exactly two Italians and my dash is utterly FLOODED with Sanremo madness right now. xD it's fantastic I have zero clue what's going on but I kinda wanna look it up and watch

ASDFGHJKSDGHJKL I don't know if I should be like "welcome aboard, here's popcorn and a flower bouquet!" or apologize. XDDDD

Anyway, Sanremo is the colloquial name for the Festival della Canzone Italiana (Italian Song Festival) held every year in the city of Sanremo. It lasts for five nights, with a number of artists competing to win first place in between comedy sketches and serious monologues, and is one of the longest-running tv shows still on air. The winner is supposed to represent Italy during the Eurovision Song Contest (tho they can decline if they don't feel like going) but Sanremo actually predates and even inspired ESC. The English Wikipedia page on it has more info on it, ofc.

... however, I'm pretty sure it fails to mention how Sanremo isn't just about music or even about competition. It's about political, social, and cultural discourse. It's about memes and shitposting. It's about DRAMA.

Here's a few great posts (... plus mine. because it didn't show up in that year's tag for ages and I just wanted to show it to someone tbh) that can give you a better idea of what it's really like:

How it works this year (the overall structure doesn't actually change much from year to year, but some things definitely depend on which celebrity has been picked to organize and host. Amadeus has been the host since 2020, and this is his last year)

Sanremo: Music and Chaos

Sanremo: Just Chaos

"Why is the whole Italian peninsula complaining about being unable to go to sleep a decent hour?"

The Fantasanremo Madness

A few posts about The Incident in 2020

Sanremo 2021 gif moodboard

A bingo card for Sanremo 2023

A brief run-down of what actually ended up happening during Sanremo 2023 (including a mention of 2023's version of The Incident) (yes there is always an Incident) (... okay, actually there were two that year. What a time to be alive)

My own Sanremo 2023 post that was savagely censored by Tumblr until I removed the picture of that year's co-host, influencer Chiara Ferragni, wearing a dress with fake nipples on it (no, none of the year's Incidents were about that) (One did involve Ferragni's husband being lap-danced on, dragged on stage, and kissed by a male performer tho)

All the Sanremo 2023 after shows/dedicated specials on other shows/press conferences/social media presence stuff/general media circus (here as a "no seriously it may be ridiculous but it IS a big deal"/"did you think it was over with JUST the actual competition *evil laugh*" post)

... I do realize that might seem a lot. But trust me, it only represents a TINY percentage of the insanity that goes on both on stage and behind the scenes every time. XDD

#ask #the-real-azalea-scroggs #sanremo #welcome to italy #the first post i linked includes a way to watch live btw ;)

[honeyblockm]

The Death Poem, Part One: L'Manberg

Masterpost | Part Two: New L'Manberg | Part Three: Empowerment | Part Four: Legacy

Text:

8/2/2020: Eret betrays L'Manberg in the final control room

Even the first of them still had time to turn

and face down 

the sword sting of danger 

Death arrived from out of the dark

Opening black doors Holding black steel

The cut is clean The floor washed 

in bodies seeking 

out the ends of the narrow walls

In its construction you had almost thought you

were hauling stones for a sarcophagus 

but this is no painted effigy:

The boy's eyes see everything in one second and are glass the next 

Teeth bared 

in the manner of sobbing children

His red hair, you noted, grew redder still

8/2/2020: Tommyinnit bets L'Manberg's independence on a duel

I’m familiar enough with blood paying blood

paying blood For country, men

have spilled much more than that

Blood is not the price I worry about

This is not a bid for honor. What I ask

flies straight 

and does not miss

9/22/2020: Wilbur is killed shortly after his banishment

Run down in the streets:

that’s what this is 

Look, 

we match,

death for death.

Ugly thing, to turn my back to you

hiding my face so I could not see 

L’Manberg shrinking behind me

Or was it so you could not see me?

10/16/2020: Tubbo is executed at the Red Festival

Before the day had set the smell of festival food

lingered In the audience, in the wings of the stage

Flushed from speaking and dancing

the vice president laid an arm across my shoulders

Pulled me to the podium

There, I could see everything

Earlier the fireflies had come out

though their signals 

were hard to see There will be bigger spectacles 

before night pulls over the cloak

I recall, he originally conceived it as a signal flare

In case you need help

it’ll be better

than screaming

I’m told there was retaliation 

after the fireworks The banners left

burning Stalls tipped over Charcoal marks

            in the grass

(for these things 

I was not present)

Small consolation: a gap left in the concrete

just big enough for my face

There, I could see everything

10/17/2020: In the White House, Quackity fires a gun at JSchlatt

the bullet goes in from the back, 

solemn as a tall drink on a dark night

all alone

haven’t had one of those 

in a long time, come to think of it

the exit wound is more your style, I'd say.

to put it simply--

your frontal bone explodes

brains staining the carpet

you and I know better than anyone 

an execution doesn’t come out in the wash

I’d have cried, but not today

since you were pulling the house down

anyways and 

killing a man with his back turned is

sordid, I know, but if playing dirty is what

got me here then 

dirty is how I’m getting out,

thank you 

11/16/2020: Jack Manifold is slain by Wilbur Soot

Just to see if you could 

before it was too late to decide

not to die 

The house was empty

when I came to

11/16/2020: JSchatt swallows butane in the Camarvan

What better way to die than surrounded by friends

enemies, old compatriots, my wife

at my vehicular bedside?

And here I thought 

I’d face the music all alone

My chest aches, 

a symptom I welcome

now

This country’s got a propensity for driving men 

to purposeful ends, we go

You’ll see in a minute

I’m never wrong

Care to entertain an ailing man 

some prewar spirits

a toast

old memories

the last word?

11/16/2020: Wilbur Soot kills his country and then himself

now that I’m out of the ravine I can see clearly

the whole country At least I think that’s all of it 

This city used to have a shape Without the walls 

it’s hard to tell where L’Manberg ends and where

the rest of the world picks itself back up 

Leaving our little peninsula behind Even the river

has flooded its banks and the salmon swim sideways

Now I must turn myself out too Maybe chase the

retreating forests A child’s memory My jacket shrugged

over my shoulders like peeling beds of silt Pooled at 

the entrance of the room where my father always

tripped over it and will again Without this room these

signs a redstone line reeling me in it’s hard to tell 

where the President ends and where Wilbur drives off into the

the setting dusk In his chest a bursting song

he is as happy as before

#yens #my writing #dsmp poetry

[girlrants]

I illustrated Manal Shad, a passionate and brilliant, 14 year old climate activist from Dir, Pakistan for @sojogram, for the spotlight section in their upcoming December issue ✨ It was quite inspiring and refreshing to learn about the young, vivacious Manal, who first came into the global spotlight after getting featured in Oxford Uni alum, Sarah Jehaan Khan’s short documentary titled ‘Passoon’ ‎(پاسون) which means ‘to rise up for a cause’ in Pashto. “Passoon” won first prize at the Girls Impact the World Film Festival in 2020 — the film highlights the work of Manal Shad, a then 12-year-old climate activist speaking about deforestation in a rural, mountainous area of Pakistan. Watching a clip of Manal on social media one is struck with her presence and concern about the environment in her community. “It isn't uncommon for girls to be that vocal in cities like Lahore or Islamabad, but it is relatively rare to see a girl speaking at public forums in areas like Dir where Manal lives and where audiences are almost entirely men.” Manal began speaking out when she noticed that forests in her community were disappearing — loggers were cutting down trees and not replanting. She became concerned that deforestation of surrounding mountains was leading to flooding in towns like hers. “There used to be trees on these mountains, so the soil would absorb most of the water,” Manal says in “Passoon.” “Now they are only absorbing 10% of water. People have always lived in these areas, the issue is with our bad management of resources!” What Manal witnessed in her community is happening across Pakistan. With the highest annual deforestation rate in the world, experts fear that all forest areas in the country could be gone within the next five years. @sojogram - Sojourners is an independent, award-winning print and online magazine of faith, culture and politics, based in the US. Thank you to AD @dontcallme_candy for this great learning opportunity! Watch Passoon here: https://www.facebook.com/mohrpak/videos/230755864864137/ #manalshad #climateactivist #climateaction #climatechange #dir #pakistan #illustration #digitalillustration #digitalart #procreate #sojourners #sojogram (at Dir) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck-jpAUra-9/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#manalshad #climateactivist #climateaction #climatechange #dir #pakistan #illustration #digitalillustration #digitalart #procreate #sojourners #sojogram

[brookston]

Holidays 8.9

Holidays

Battle of Gangut Day (Russia)

Betty Boop Day

Book Lovers Day [also 1st Saturday in Nov.]

Caper Day (French Republic)

Clean Out the Kitchen Cupboards Day

Cranham Feast (Gloucestershire, UK)

Dag der Inheemsen (Indigenous People’s Day; Suriname)

Defense Forces Day (Zimbabwe)

809 Day

Frank Zappa Day (Baltimore)

Indigenous People’s Day (Suriname)

International Art Appreciation Day

International Coworking Day

International Day of the World's Indigenous People (UN)

International Pigtail Day

International Sundance (Lakota; Manitoba, Canada)

Jesse Owens Day

Laugh At Religion Day

Meyboom (Brussels and Leuven, Belgium)

Moment of Silence Day (Japan)

Moon’s Day

Nagasaki Day

National Billiards & Pool Day

National Hand Holding Day

National Peacekeepers Day 9Canada)

National Polka Day

National Psychiatric Technician Appreciation Day

National Rebecca Day

National Women's Day (South Africa)

Nippy Day

Official Air Guitar Day (Kansas City, Missouri)

Patient Application Day

Quit India Day (India)

Rain of Mussels Day (Germany)

Sean Astin Appreciation Day

Send An E-mail Day

Smokey the Bear Day

Unicorn Day

Veep Day

World Adivasi Day (India)

World Baijiu Day

World Book Lover’s Day

World Tribal Day (Parts of India)

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Passion Fruit Day

Rice Pudding Day

Swiss Roll Day (Sweden)

2nd Wednesday in August

Crayfish Premiere (Sweden) [2nd Wednesday]

National Psychiatric Technician Appreciation Day [Wednesday of 2nd Full Week]

World Calligraphy Day [Wednesday of 2nd Full Week]

Independence Days

Bradonia (Declared; 2020) [unrecognized]

Singapore (from Malaysia, 1965)

Feast Days

Candida Maria of Jesus (Christian; Saint)

Edith Stein (a.k.a. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross; Christian; Saint)

Fedlimid (a.k.a. Felimy) of Kilmore (Christian; Saint)

Fénélon (Positivist; Saint)

Festival for Sol (Ancient Rome)

Festival of Sol Indigis (Roman Sun God; Ancient Rome)

Firmus and Rusticus (Christian; Saint)

Herman of Alaska (Russian Orthodox Church and related congregations; Episcopal Church (USA))

Invisible Pixy Spotting/Swatting Day (Pastafarian)

John Vianney (1950s – currently 8.4; Christian; Saint)

Mary Sumner (Church of England)

Media Aestas I (Pagan)

Nath Í of Achonry (Christian; Saint)

Pierre-Étienne Monnot (Artology)

Remembrance for Radbod, King of the Frisians (Asatru/Norse Pagan/The Troth)

Romanus Ostiarius (Christian; Saint)

Rosencranz & Gilderstern Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Secundian, Marcellian and Verian (Christian; Saints)

Talk to the Invisible Pixies Day (Pastafarian)

Trevor (Muppetism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Lucky Day (Philippines) [44 of 71]

Premieres

The Abyss (Film; 1989)

The Art of Racing in the Rain (Film; 2019)

The Blue Lotus, by Hergé (Graphic Novel; 1934) [Tintin #5]

Come September (Film; 1961)

Dizzy Dishes, featuring Betty Boop (Fleischer Cartoon; 1930)

Donald’s Vacation (Disney Cartoon; 1940)

Dora and the Lost City of Gold (Film; 2019)

Elysium (Film; 2013)

Endangered Species, by Lynyrd Skynyrd (Album; 1994)

Escape from L.A. (Film; 1996)

The Glass Bead Game, by Hermann Hesse (Novel; 1943)

Hopp-Go-Lucky (WB LT Cartoon; 1952)

Hot Fun in the Summertime, by Sly and the Family Stone (Song; 1969)

In a World… (Film; 2013)

Jack (Film; 1996)

Just to See You Smile, by Tim McGraw (Song; 1997)

Lovelace (Film; 2013)

Mary Poppins, by P.L. Travers (Novel; 1934)

The Moomins and the Great Flood, by Tove Jansson (Children’s Book; 1945)

My Science Project (Film; 1985)

Outlander (TV Series; 2014)

The Peanut Butter Falcon (Film; 2019)

Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (Film; 1985)

Pil’s Adventures (Animated Film; 2022)

Planes (Animated Film; 2013)

Ready! Steady! Go! (BBC TV Series; 1963)

Real Genius (Film; 1985)

Reservation Dogs (TV Series; 2021)

Ruben Brandt, Collector (Animated Film; 2018)

Saturday Night Fish Fry, recorded by Louis Jordan (Song; 1949)

September (Film; 1961)

Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars, by Edie Brickell & the New Bohemians (Album; 1988)

Walden, by Henry David Thoreau (Short Story; 1854)

Wet Paint (Disney Cartoon; 1946)

xXx (Film; 2002)

Today’s Name Days

Edith (Austria)

Firmin, Roman, Terezija, Tvrtko (Croatia)

Roman (Czech Republic)

Rosmanus (Denmark)

Deboora, Imma, Melita, Mesike (Estonia)

Eira, Erja, Nadja (Finland)

Amour (France)

Altmann, Edith, Roman (Germany)

Triantafilia, Triantafilos Triantafyllos (Greece)

Emőd (Hungary)

Fermo, Maria, Romano, Rustico (Italy)

Ģedimins, Genoveva, Madara, Tautgodis (Latvia)

Mintartas, Rolandas, Romanas, Tarvilė (Lithuania)

Ronald, Ronny (Norway)

Jan, Klarysa, Miłorad, Roland, Roman, Romuald (Poland)

Ľubomíra (Slovakia)

Román, Teresa (Spain)

Roland (Sweden)

Mark, Markian (Ukraine)

Felim, Ledell, Phelan, Phelim, Phelps (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 221 of 2024; 144 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 3 of week 32 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 2 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Ji-Wei), Day 23 (Ji-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 22 Av 5783

Islamic: 22 Muharram 1445

J Cal: 11 Hasa; Foursday [11 of 30]

Julian: 27 July 2023

Moon: 38%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 25 Dante (8th Month) [Fénélon]

Runic Half Month: Thorn (Defense) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 50 of 94)

Zodiac: Leo (Day 19 of 31)

#calendar #Holidays

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 8.9

Holidays

Battle of Gangut Day (Russia)

Betty Boop Day

Book Lovers Day [also 1st Saturday in Nov.]

Caper Day (French Republic)

Clean Out the Kitchen Cupboards Day

Cranham Feast (Gloucestershire, UK)

Dag der Inheemsen (Indigenous People’s Day; Suriname)

Defense Forces Day (Zimbabwe)

809 Day

Frank Zappa Day (Baltimore)

Indigenous People’s Day (Suriname)

International Art Appreciation Day

International Coworking Day

International Day of the World's Indigenous People (UN)

International Pigtail Day

International Sundance (Lakota; Manitoba, Canada)

Jesse Owens Day

Laugh At Religion Day

Meyboom (Brussels and Leuven, Belgium)

Moment of Silence Day (Japan)

Moon’s Day

Nagasaki Day

National Billiards & Pool Day

National Hand Holding Day

National Peacekeepers Day 9Canada)

National Polka Day

National Psychiatric Technician Appreciation Day

National Rebecca Day

National Women's Day (South Africa)

Nippy Day

Official Air Guitar Day (Kansas City, Missouri)

Patient Application Day

Quit India Day (India)

Rain of Mussels Day (Germany)

Sean Astin Appreciation Day

Send An E-mail Day

Smokey the Bear Day

Unicorn Day

Veep Day

World Adivasi Day (India)

World Baijiu Day

World Book Lover’s Day

World Tribal Day (Parts of India)

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Passion Fruit Day

Rice Pudding Day

Swiss Roll Day (Sweden)

2nd Wednesday in August

Crayfish Premiere (Sweden) [2nd Wednesday]

National Psychiatric Technician Appreciation Day [Wednesday of 2nd Full Week]

World Calligraphy Day [Wednesday of 2nd Full Week]

Independence Days

Bradonia (Declared; 2020) [unrecognized]

Singapore (from Malaysia, 1965)

Feast Days

Candida Maria of Jesus (Christian; Saint)

Edith Stein (a.k.a. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross; Christian; Saint)

Fedlimid (a.k.a. Felimy) of Kilmore (Christian; Saint)

Fénélon (Positivist; Saint)

Festival for Sol (Ancient Rome)

Festival of Sol Indigis (Roman Sun God; Ancient Rome)

Firmus and Rusticus (Christian; Saint)

Herman of Alaska (Russian Orthodox Church and related congregations; Episcopal Church (USA))

Invisible Pixy Spotting/Swatting Day (Pastafarian)

John Vianney (1950s – currently 8.4; Christian; Saint)

Mary Sumner (Church of England)

Media Aestas I (Pagan)

Nath Í of Achonry (Christian; Saint)

Pierre-Étienne Monnot (Artology)

Remembrance for Radbod, King of the Frisians (Asatru/Norse Pagan/The Troth)

Romanus Ostiarius (Christian; Saint)

Rosencranz & Gilderstern Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Secundian, Marcellian and Verian (Christian; Saints)

Talk to the Invisible Pixies Day (Pastafarian)

Trevor (Muppetism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Lucky Day (Philippines) [44 of 71]

Premieres

The Abyss (Film; 1989)

The Art of Racing in the Rain (Film; 2019)

The Blue Lotus, by Hergé (Graphic Novel; 1934) [Tintin #5]

Come September (Film; 1961)

Dizzy Dishes, featuring Betty Boop (Fleischer Cartoon; 1930)

Donald’s Vacation (Disney Cartoon; 1940)

Dora and the Lost City of Gold (Film; 2019)

Elysium (Film; 2013)

Endangered Species, by Lynyrd Skynyrd (Album; 1994)

Escape from L.A. (Film; 1996)

The Glass Bead Game, by Hermann Hesse (Novel; 1943)

Hopp-Go-Lucky (WB LT Cartoon; 1952)

Hot Fun in the Summertime, by Sly and the Family Stone (Song; 1969)

In a World… (Film; 2013)

Jack (Film; 1996)

Just to See You Smile, by Tim McGraw (Song; 1997)

Lovelace (Film; 2013)

Mary Poppins, by P.L. Travers (Novel; 1934)

The Moomins and the Great Flood, by Tove Jansson (Children’s Book; 1945)

My Science Project (Film; 1985)

Outlander (TV Series; 2014)

The Peanut Butter Falcon (Film; 2019)

Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (Film; 1985)

Pil’s Adventures (Animated Film; 2022)

Planes (Animated Film; 2013)

Ready! Steady! Go! (BBC TV Series; 1963)

Real Genius (Film; 1985)

Reservation Dogs (TV Series; 2021)

Ruben Brandt, Collector (Animated Film; 2018)

Saturday Night Fish Fry, recorded by Louis Jordan (Song; 1949)

September (Film; 1961)

Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars, by Edie Brickell & the New Bohemians (Album; 1988)

Walden, by Henry David Thoreau (Short Story; 1854)

Wet Paint (Disney Cartoon; 1946)

xXx (Film; 2002)

Today’s Name Days

Edith (Austria)

Firmin, Roman, Terezija, Tvrtko (Croatia)

Roman (Czech Republic)

Rosmanus (Denmark)

Deboora, Imma, Melita, Mesike (Estonia)

Eira, Erja, Nadja (Finland)

Amour (France)

Altmann, Edith, Roman (Germany)

Triantafilia, Triantafilos Triantafyllos (Greece)

Emőd (Hungary)

Fermo, Maria, Romano, Rustico (Italy)

Ģedimins, Genoveva, Madara, Tautgodis (Latvia)

Mintartas, Rolandas, Romanas, Tarvilė (Lithuania)

Ronald, Ronny (Norway)

Jan, Klarysa, Miłorad, Roland, Roman, Romuald (Poland)

Ľubomíra (Slovakia)

Román, Teresa (Spain)

Roland (Sweden)

Mark, Markian (Ukraine)

Felim, Ledell, Phelan, Phelim, Phelps (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 221 of 2024; 144 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 3 of week 32 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 2 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Ji-Wei), Day 23 (Ji-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 22 Av 5783

Islamic: 22 Muharram 1445

J Cal: 11 Hasa; Foursday [11 of 30]

Julian: 27 July 2023

Moon: 38%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 25 Dante (8th Month) [Fénélon]

Runic Half Month: Thorn (Defense) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 50 of 94)

Zodiac: Leo (Day 19 of 31)

#Holidays

[truthshield]

All eyes on Bonnaroos attendance as the festival makes its comeback

With major questions swirling about its current popularity, the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival returns to Manchester on Thursday after a two-year hiatus. The 2020 festival was canceled. Last year’s event was delayed by the pandemic and then canceled at the eleventh hour due to flooding. Why it matters: Bonnaroo has become a massive music industry success story and one of the nation’s premier festival experiences. The 2019 event was declared a sellout. Yes, but: Four-day passes for this year’s comeback remained on sale Thursday morning. The last two cancellations didn’t help, and there’s now way more competition within the festival business. Summer music festivals have proliferated across the country in recent years, giving fans who were willing to sojourn to rural Tennessee less-expensive alternatives. Between the lines: Considering those factors, stakeholders will be scrutinizing the size of the crowds to gauge the popularity of this year’s event. Bonnaroo, which is primarily owned by the corporate concert giant Live Nation, doesn’t disclose its actual attendance. However, public records kept by the Coffee County budget office revealed how many fans purchased tickets in previous years. The intrigue: It’s also been a tumultuous few years for Bonnaroo organizers dealing with the local government. Bonnaroo pays for the emergency responders, trash collection and other festival-related expenses incurred by Coffee County and Manchester governments. After Bonnaroo was unable to reach an agreement with the Coffee County government for road improvements around the venue, organizers struck a deal with the city of Manchester to annex the farm. That agreement means Manchester will get the tax revenue generated by the event rather than the county. Coffee County responded by working with state lawmakers to pass a law that will allow it to impose a new fee on each ticket sold for future concerts on the farm. Bonnaroo booked Stevie Nicks, Tool and J. Cole as headliners for this year’s festival, which boasts its typically deep and genre-diverse lineup. The Chicks, 21 Savage and Machine Gun Kelly will also play prime time slots. But forecasts show high temperatures will take center stage. This year’s festival will be defined largely by how fans and organizers manage the heat. What we’re watching: The vast majority of fans camp on the festival grounds, where there is precious little shade. Our thought bubble: The Axios Nashville team is too reliant on central air to attend. But Adam’s brother, Luke, who is a diehard Bonnaroovian, offered this take on how to make the most of the festival. “For a quick blast of chilly relief, give your bandana a quick dip in the bottom of your cooler,” Luke says. “Fold it up with a few ice cubes, and soothe your sweltering forehead with an ice-cold, fashionable headpiece.” And: “Go to a show solo. Bonnaroovians are a peaceful, welcoming bunch. Going to a show without your crew can open you up to some wonderful, or downright weird, interactions.” For the casuals: If you don’t have tickets and prefer to avoid the heat, you can catch Bonnaroo from the air-conditioned comfort of your living room. Hulu will livestream performances throughout Bonnaroo. A Hulu subscription is required, and a lineup of which artists’ sets will be streamed was not released as of Thursday morning. The complete Bonnaroo lineup. https://ift.tt/dW8gMcs https://ift.tt/JnzHR03

#Saas #softwaresystems #productdevelopment #software #practice #optimization #accuracy #efficiency #productivity #softwareprojects #cracksthecode

[thelibraryghost]

Lovecraft Country: A Reference List

Edit 4/7/24: Added more links. At the Mountains of Madness Burroughs, Edgar Rice. "At the Earth's Core." All-Story Weekly, vol. 30, no. 1–4 (April 1914). Lovecraft, H. P. "At the Mountains of Madness." Astounding Stories, vol. 16, no. 6–8 (1936). Merritt, A. "The People of the Pit." All-Story Weekly, vol. 79, no. 3 (January 1918). Poe, Edgar Allan. The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1838. Russell, William Clark. The Frozen Pirate. Toronto: W. Bryce, 1887. —. "Bear, 1885." United States Coast Guard. Posted February 13, 2020. Accessed April 19, 2022. <https://www.history.uscg.mil/Browse-by-Topic/Assets/Water/All/Article/2082164/bear-1885/> —. "Edsel Ford, Richard E. Byrd and Henry Ford with 1926 Ford Tri-Motor 4-AT-1." The Henry Ford. Accessed April 24, 2022. <https://www.thehenryford.org/collections-and-research/digital-collections/artifact/277866> —. "Fairchild FC-2W2 Stars and Stripes, STARS AND STRIPES." National Air and Space Museum. Accessed April 19, 2022. <https://airandspace.si.edu/collection-objects/fairchild-fc-2w2-stars-and-stripes/nasm_A19720533000> —. "Photo Details - LAIV MAP.JPG." USAP Photo Library. Accessed April 24, 2022. <https://photolibrary.usap.gov/PhotoDetails.aspx?filename=LAIV_MAP.JPG> —. "Vamar History." Florida's "Museums in the Sea". Accessed April 24, 2022. <https://www.museumsinthesea.com/vamar/history.htm> "Pickman's Model" Bromley, George Washington. "4. Ward 6." David Rumsey Map Collection. Accessed March 15, 2022. <https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~29221~1130280:4--Ward-6-> Jarzombek, Nancy Allyn. "A Taste for High Art: Boston and the Boston Art Club, 1855-1950." Antiques & Fine Art Magazine. Accessed March 15, 2022. <https://www.incollect.com/articles/boston-and-the-boston-art-club-1855-1950> Lovecraft, H. P. "Pickman's Model." Weird Tales, vol.10, no. 4 (1927), pp. 505–513. McCollom, J. H. "Observations on Cholera." Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, vol. 127 (1892), pp. 284–286. Wilson, Susan. Literary Trail of Greater Boston. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. See esp. pp. 114–115. Sweeney, Emily. "Boston officials remember the Great Molasses Flood, 100 years later." The Boston Globe. Posted January 15, 2019. Accessed April 24, 2022. <https://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2019/01/15/remembering-great-molasses-flood-years-later/zNqJPoyHTuuSWcXKIZv0HM/story.html> —."Copp's Hill Burying Ground." City of Boston. Accessed March 15, 2022. <https://www.boston.gov/cemeteries/copps-hill-burying-ground> —. "Mount Auburn Cemetery." National Park Service. Accessed March 15, 2022. <https://www.nps.gov/places/mount-auburn-cemetery.htm> —."Our History." The Home for Little Wanderers. Accessed March 16, 2022. <https://www.thehome.org/our-history> —. Twentieth Annual Report of the Boston Transit Commission, for the year ending June 30, 1914. Boston: City Printing Department, 1914. See esp.pp. 1–5 and 33–35. "The Colour Out of Space" Cole, Sean. "Haunting the Quabbin: Inside Out." Podcast. On 90.9 WBUR: Boston's NPR Station. Accessed March 11, 2022. <http://audio.wbur.org.s3.amazonaws.com/miscellaneous/2005/io_quabbin/io_0128.mp3> Lovecraft, H. P. "The Colour out of Space." Amazing Stories, vol. 2, no. 6 (1927), pp. 556–567. —. "Map of the Proposed Quabbin Reservoir." Image. On Flickr. Posted September 5, 2012. Accessed March 11, 2022. <https://www.flickr.com/photos/mastatelibrary/7973653952/in/photostream/> —. "Quabbin Chronology." Friends of Quabbin. Accessed March 11, 2022. <http://foquabbin.org/quabbin-chronology/> "The Dreams in the Witch House" Goodell, Jr., Abner Cheney. Further Notes on the History of Witchcraft in Massachusetts: Containing Additional Evidence for the Passage of the Act of 1711, for Reversing the Attainders of the Witches; Also, Affirming the Legality of the Special Court of Oyer and Terminer of 1692: with … an Appendix of Documents, Etc. Cambridge, Mass.: John Wilson & Son, 1884. Lovecraft, H. P. "Map of the Principal parts of Arkham, Massachusetts." Brown Digital Repository. 1934. <https://repository.library.brown.edu/studio/item/bdr:927157/> Accessed March 11, 2022. Lovecraft, H. P. "The Dreams in the Witch House." Weird Tales, vol. 22, no. 1 (1933), pp. 86–110. Mather, Cotton. The Wonders of the Invisible World: Being an Account of the Tryals of Several Witches Lately Executed in New-England. London: John Dounton, 1693. Newman, Caroline. "With UVA's Help, Salem Finally Discovers Where Its 'Witches' Were Executed." UVA Today. Posted January 19, 2016. Accessed April 24, 2022. <https://news.virginia.edu/content/uvas-help-salem-finally-discovers-where-its-witches-were-executed> Upham, William P. House of John Procter, Witchcraft Martyr, 1692. Peabody, Mass.: C. H. Shepard, 1904. Webber, C. H. and Nevins, W. S. Old Naumkeag: An Historical Sketch of the City of Salem, and the Towns of Marblehead, Peabody, Beverly, Danvers, Wenham, Manchester, Topsfield, and Middleton. Salem, Mass.: A. A. Middleton & Co., 1877. The Dunwich Horror TBA "The Festival" Aldrich, William Truman. "Marblehead: Its Contribution to Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Century American Architecture." The White Pine Series of Architectural Monographs, vol. 4, no. 1 (1918). Hill, Benjamin D and Nevins, Winfield S. The North Shore of Massachusetts Bay: An Illustrated Guide to Marblehead, Salem, Peabody, Beverly, Manchester-by-the-Sea, Magnolia, Gloucester, Rockport, and Ipswich. Salem, Mass.: 1881. Lovecraft, H. P. "The Festival." Weird Tales, vol. 5, no. 1 (1925), pp. 169–174. Roads, Jr., Samuel. A Guide to Marblehead. Marblehead, Mass.: N. A. Lindsey & Co., 1890. Roads, Jr., Samuel. The History and Traditions of Marblehead. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1881. Roads, Jr., Samuel. The Marblehead Manual. Marblehead, Mass.: Statesman Publishing Company, 1883. "The Haunter of the Dark" Bloch, Robert. "The Shambler from the Stars." Weird Tales, vol. 26, no. 3 (1935), pp. 368–375. Ewers, Hanns Heinz. "The Spider." In Creeps by Night; Chills and Thrills, edited by Samuel Dashiell Hammet. New York: John Day, 1931. Hopkins, Griffith Morgan. "v.3 pl.E Wards 4, 7." David Rumsey Map Collection. Accessed March 11, 2022. <https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~28188~1120731:v-3-pl-E-Wards-4,-7-> Howard, Robert E. "The Shadow Kingdom." Weird Tales, vol. 14, no. 2 (1929), pp. 166–182. Lovecraft, H. P. "The Haunter of the Dark." Weird Tales, vol. 28, no. 5 (1936), pp. 538–553. —. "Federal Hill, from the Italians to the Irish." RI PBS. Aired January 16, 2020.  Accessed March 11, 2022. <https://watch.ripbs.org/video/rhode-island-pbs-weekly-12162020-nlmrt2/> The Shadow over Innsmouth Coffin, Joshua. A Sketch of the History of Newbury, Newburyport, and West Newbury, from 1635 to 1845. Boston: Samuel G. Drake, 1845. Currier, John J. History of Newbury, Massachusetts, 1635–1902. Newbury, Mass.: Damrell & Upham, 1902. Lovecraft, H. P. The Shadow over Innsmouth. Everett, Penn.: Visionary Publishing Company, 1936. Williams, Frederic J. The Turnpikes of New England and Evolution of the Same Through England, Virginia and Maryland. Boston: Marshall Jones Company, 1919. —. "About the Museum." Custom House Maritime Museum. Accessed April 24, 2022. <https://customhousemaritimemuseum.org/about-the-museum/> —. "Newburyport Rum Withstands the Test of Time—Almost." New England Historical Society. Posted 2021. Accessed April 24, 2022. <https://www.newenglandhistoricalsociety.com/newburyport-rum-withstands-test-time-almost/> "The Thing on the Doorstep" Bain, Robert Nisbet. "Louis II. of Hungary." Encyclopedia Britannica, vol. 17 (1911), pp. 49–50. Howard, Robert E. "The Black Stone." Weird Tales, vol. 18, no. 4 (1931), pp. 500–510. Lovecraft, H. P. "The Thing on the Door-Step." Weird Tales, vol. 29, no. 1 (1937), pp. 52–69. Smith, Clark Ashton. The Star-Treader and Other Poems. San Francisco, A. M. Robertson, 1912. Trask, Richard B. "Danvers State Hospital." Danvers Archival Center. Posted 2013.  Accessed March 15, 2022. <https://www.danverslibrary.org/archive/danvers-state-hospital/>

#lovecraft #books #reference #lovecraft country #salem #massachusetts #salem witch trials #cthulhu #cthulhu mythos #pulp fiction #lovecraftian #weird tales #boston #history #fiction #science fiction #speculative fiction #pulp fantasy #sci-fi #h p lovecraft

[astormyjet]

Winter of 2018 - Summer of 2021 TIME FILES WHEN YOU’RE IN YOUR 20s!!!!

OH BOY. It’s been three years (or more) since I updated this. “Time is a weird soup!” to quote a fave. I guess I quit tumblr around the time there was a purge of content and creators and a smack down on a lot of the fandom communities. Tumblr has always been something of a crapshow though so I’ve been more productive with my time than I was in some ways, but I’ve also found other ways to waste my time. *cough twitter/netflix/youtube/MTGArena cough*.

General Life Achievements since 2018 -JLPT N3 GET in 2019! -Blackbelt GET in 2018! -TESOL 120 Hour and BE 50 Hour Cert from online provider GET in 2021 -STUDENT LOAN BANISHED (Thank you grandparents) -Survived Apartment flooding in early 2020. -Mystery anxiety related illness and chronic pain in my left leg from early 2020 - Present. -A mythical 6th and 7th year on the JET Programme. -Started posting on Instagram a lot more about my wanderings around Matsuyama/Uwajima. Mainly old buildings and stray cats. @astormyknight -Surviving so far in Japan with old rona-chan.

2018 was rough. I was given an additional school in the first semester (March to July) as we had someone find a better job. I enjoyed it, but it was a bit of a rough go especially when I was transferred that August after three fantastic years at Tsubaki JHS and ES and only a semester there. I legit went through the five stages of grief - which I think is another reason I stopped blogging. I was given my current base school along with four other schools. Going from 2(3) to 5 schools was a bit of an adjustment. I still feel a bit spread out.

That said, I keep running into teachers and students who were at the Tsubaki’s. The teachers shuffle around every April, so it's always a lottery with which new faces are going to be old friends (or enemies…). A couple of kids moved and transferred into my current schools from Tsubaki too. So I have one kid I can say I've been teaching for 6 out of the 7 years I've been here!

One of the kids who was in JHS 3rd grade when I first got here (in 2015!) hangs out around one of my favorite cafes, so I got chatting with him recently. He's in his second year of nursing school - his class nearly broke me in the first year, it was really a trial by fire with those kids. I was 22 then, and he’s 20 now, so it was interesting chatting to him about that first year of teaching. His younger sister was one of my favorite students too, she was in the group of kids that graduated in the March of 2018, the year group that went through Tsubaki JHS with me - they’re newly minted University students now!

This Thursday morning when I was cycling in to work, a kid who was 2nd year JHS when I left  (so 2nd or 3rd year JHS now) pulled up with their Mum in a van and got their mamachari out of the back to bike to school. The franticness of it all was hilarious. Their Mum legit sat on the horn until I pulled over. I was so happy to run into this kid, even at social distance and both of us late to work/school - because we both remembered each other and as they were going around the corners they were yelling each time they turned and humming the old elementary school directions chant and pelting me with questions about what I’ve been up to.

I've had so many students and schools now, that everything is kind of running into a blur. I remember flashes of kids faces and voices, random memories of in class or out of class shenanigans out of the blue. Also, I now, more than ever, have issues remembering kids' names, but I still know their faces (even with their masks), whose homeroom class they were in, who their friends were and which club they were in. I get random flashbacks to past conversations with them when I see them on the street or we run into each other. I feel bad because the first thing former students ask is ‘Do you remember my name?’ and I always have to be like, ‘Honestly, no, but I remember you did this on x day, x month in x classroom’.

Socially in 2018 -2019 - a few of our friends went home and things shook up a little. Our DnD group changed a bit - one of our players stepped into the role forever DM (THANK YOU RALPH). From memory the newbies were great - some of them just went home at the start of last month and it’s weird not seeing them around (JESS DO YOUR BEST!). I think we only have one or two people left from that rotation. There’s no 6th year ALTs, and only two 5th years.

Aug 2018 - Aug 2019 was the year of Hiura - my mountain school. Dang man, they were so cool. The students of the JHS and the ES combined barely hit 30, so each class was between 3-10 students depending on the grade. It was easier to get to know the kids, their abilities and their goals than it has been for me at other schools. I miss it so bad, being in nature once a week did my country-kid heart so good! The bugs! The frogs! The river! The mountain! The monkeys! The lizards! The dilapidated houses and hidden shrines!!!! The random crabs in the English room...I forgot that there was such a thing as freshwater crabs, and being right next to a river, the invasion wasn’t as out of place as I first thought...  

The area is so picturesque and calming. Every week up there was a small adventure (after getting over my motion sickness from the bus ride up). The kids were constantly pranking either myself or the main English teacher. There was always some new weird bug or lizard in a tank to be educated about. There were chickens on the way to the JHS that used to escape from their cardboard box prisons to run riot on the gardens. There were old people to freak out with my youth and foreignness! The kids also got to do a lot of extra classes, sumiyakai (making charcoal the traditional way), planting and maintaining rice paddies, setting up vegetable gardens, raising fireflies, conserving a special breed of fire lily (only found in this particular mountain valley) and another rare flower, wilderness training ect.

I wish I could have stayed there a lot longer but SOMEONE (read...the BoE) decided that schools had to be shuffled again(thank goodness the dude who has it now was able to keep it from the 2021 shuffle, he's the best fit for the school). I had so many good memories from there, I wish I had been more consistent in writing it down. I do have a bunch of photos and videos from there though, so that's nice. The only thing I don’t miss is the bus trip up and down - not only was it motion sickness, there was a healthy dose of fear each ride as the driver brought us perilously close to the edge of the mountain drop…

2019 - 2020 was interesting. With the school I got given instead of the Hirua’s I was roped into more demonstration lessons which was a lot of pressure because I was also involved quite heavily with the JHS observation and training lessons too. They were somewhat rewarding, the third graders are now super smart 5th graders, but the teachers  who need to embrace the new curriculum and ways of teaching really haven’t taken on anything from the lessons....

Outside of work as well, I was given the chance, thanks to an ALT buddy of mine, to join in with the local festival. It's been one of the biggest highlights of my time here, and I am gutted it’s been cancelled for the last two years, but I understand the reason…. I was able to travel to Okinawa too during that summer for an international Karate seminar with the Dojo I train with. I met the head of the style I currently practice and a bunch of people from around the world. I also got to see Shuri castle before it burned down. So that was a stroke of luck. One of the places I want to go when/if we get out of this pandemic is Okinawa. I want to see more of those Islands so bad. Just before the whole pandemic thing too - I managed to see the Rugby World Cup, a Canada vs NZ match, I even ran into Tana Umanga in Oita city!!!

2019 - 2020 was supposed to be my last year on JET, so I was frantically Job hunting. I went to the Career Fair in Osaka in early Feb/Late January 2020. I applied and got interviewed for a position in Sendai in early Jan 2020. In the end though - the Rona hit. We started hearing whispers of it around the end of 2019, then the cruise boats happened, and then Japan refused to cancel the Olympics...every holiday season there is a new wave of infections, my nurse friends in Tokyo are struggling....my teacher friends in more populous areas of Japan are struggling…

JET couldn't get new ALTs for 2020-2021, I took the extra year when it was eventually offered, as the one job I had managed to get a serious offer for was hesitating because with the rona setting in, things were uncertain. There was a lot of time spent adjusting to the new rules surrounding what we could do in class with the kids as well as textbook change. Schools shut on and off during the spring months. 

I also got a reminder of my mortality mid May with an unrelated illness which is still smacking me around a bit - stress/age, it does things to the human body it has no right to. It's only been in the last three months I’ve been able to exercise like I used to, I’ve put on a bunch of weight I can't shrug off (one part medication, another part diet) My relationship with food needs to change, and I really need a kitchen that allows me for more than one pan meals. I also need to figure out what to do with a left leg that is in constant pain from the knee down and a heart that misses beats when stressed out (mentally and physically…). 

My apartment also got flooded by the guy upstairs at one point, I spent most of late February/early March living in a hotel while my walls and floor got redone - I think this was one of the things that really stressed me out and kicked my anxiety right up a notch, it was right when things were getting REALLY bad with rona-chan in Hokkaido and schools were shutting down here as it was filtering into the prefecture and so Japan closed schools for the first time…

Classes in covid times have been weird. We’ve been wearing facemasks full time since the early stages of the pandemic (March 2020) - so I admit that I get a bit pissed off seeing both Americans and New Zealanders back home bitching about just having to start wearing them full time in public. I have asthma and have been suffering with the things on during the 30*C plus with high 90s humidity summers. Teachers were offered vaccines late July 2021, just days before the Olympics were open - and I finished my two shots in the middle of August. But the overall distribution and take up of the jab has been slow.  As mentioned above, we can't play a lot of the games we used to play with kids in classes anymore, and a lot of the activities outlined in the textbook curriculum need to be adjusted too, so we’ve had to be creative. We use hand sanitizer a lot more too. One of the things I miss the most though, is eating lunch with the kids.

Socially from summer 2020 - now 2021 we played a lot of DnD and board games, both online and in person when we could. There were no new ALTs again for the 2021-2022 JET year, and those of us who were in 6th year were offered a 7th. Four out of six of us took it. As a whole we’re down from a peak of 38 ALTs for Junior High and Elementary school to 22 for now. We hopefully will get a new person at the end of September, and 4 more in November. Which will bring us to 27. This has led to ANOTHER round of school shuffles.

Summer vacation has been weird the last two years. With rona-chan, we haven’t really been able to travel. All the summer festivals (all the Autumn and Winter ones too!) have been cancelled, so the changing of seasons just feels, wrong. I dunno. There is so much we all miss from pre-rona-chan, and so much that doesn’t happen that makes this just feel like one long long unending year of sadness, coldness, raininess, unbearable heat and repeat. I’m tired. Time is going so fast, but so.dang.slow.

I lost my favorite school (AGAIN GDI!!!) and gained the school I taught a semester at in 2019....I had my first day there on Wednesday. Schools actually started back on September 1st so there was some drama as the BoE didn’t communicate fast enough about our school changes. We legit got told on the 27th of August (on a Friday) our schools were changing effective September 1st, but somehow some of our schools found out on the Monday 30th August. In July we were told we would be changing schools at the end of September, so.a lot of ALTs and schools were left short changed, not having opportunities to say goodbye to co-workers or students/having their planning for the semester more or less thrown out the window too. I love my job. I really dislike the way the BoE treats us, the Japanese assistant language teachers and our schools.

The new school I have is used to having an ALT there twice a week, who plans all the lessons and executes them. I’m at three elementary schools. I'm only at each once a week, I want to plan, but being that I miss an entire lesson in between visits, it's going to be difficult to do so. Not impossible, but being that I'm already doing it for two other schools, who are at two different places in the textbook ah…….. From what I have talked to my new supervisor about though, it sounds like the teachers have taken on more of the lesson planning and I'll be able to contribute ideas when I'm there. I just want to and wish I could do more without being confused all the time. (This is all usually done in my second language too, not in English so extra levels of confusion and miscommunication abound).

 I feel like this at my JHS too a lot of the time. I want to contribute more, but even with constant communication with my main in school supervisor (who is a badass and pretty much on the same page about everything with me) I still feel about as useful as tits on a bull. Especially now that classes have been cancelled and or shortened, there's less time to do stuff. Any game or activity I plan is usually cut in favor of making up time in the textbook. When I'm in class, I'm back to being a tape recorder, the fun police and general nuisance.　

Also in the last week...my two of my schools were  shut due to students testing positive for the rona. This is the second time my schools have had a scare in the last 8 months. And by shut, I mean the students were all at home, but the teachers  all had to come into the office. Because why not I guess….. I mean,  the cases increasing is really not unexpected with the amount of people who were travelling over obon and the increase of cases due to the Olympics/Japan being slow on vaccinating/delta being the dominant strain/Japan's leaders doing relatively little except asking shops and restaurants to limit people coming in at one time and closing before 8pm. I know my schools weren't the only one shut either - but still High Schools were having their sports days this week. I kept on seeing groups of kids hanging in the park after, so that was a little bit nerve wracking.

It's just frustrating - we’ve been on half days to “minimize the risk of infection” for kids and teachers, as if only being at school from 8am through to 1pm is going to reduce the risk.  My schools have only just started testing out Microsoft teams and Zoom lesson equipment. Thankfully our school’s run in this time was contained real quick, the family was super good about informing us when they got their results back, and the fact they needed to be tested. The homeroom teacher and the students from the same class were the only ones tested, and they all came back clear, which was nice. But the information came back so SLOW. 

I’m a little irritated because I found out on Wednesday night what was going on, and even if I am vaccinated, I am super worried that I will end up being the covid monkey due to being at different schools three days out of five. I think other than being worried that I will catch it myself and get real sick, my biggest fear is that I will be protected from bad symptoms from the vaccine, but still be able to pass it onto some of my more vulnerable friends and students. The whole thing is a mess.  

Other than Covid and BoE drama, life is good. I’ve had a couple of other big changes - both fantastic and not so great, but yeah.  I have my health (and health insurance!) for now. I have a job, for now. I have a sense of existential dread for the next 12 months, but we’ll see where we end up. Life post JET is going to be way less cushy and I am TERRIFIED. I mean, I have a BA in Eng/Ling and no idea what to do with it…..because I am NOT suited for academia.

TLDR: Love my job. Don’t like the system. What is life? Future scary. 

#life on JET #blog post #life in Japan #jet programme #jet program

[whitehotharlots]

Anything changed yet?

The "2020 UGGGHH" discourse is insufferable. It boggles my mind that so many people think an arbitrary temporal distinction is the cause of our nation's collapse. They believe, in all earnestness, that 2021 is going to be better simply by virtue of it being different.

There's a very good chance--better than 50/50--that 2020 is going to be the best of our remaining years, that every year and month and day from now until the sun explodes is going to be progressively worse than the one that preceded it.  

I had a sad, drunk epiphany last night about neoliberal management strategies during our collapse. The general consensus is that people like Mitch McConnell and Larry Summers are evil and stupid. But what if they're actually evil and competent? They know that mass displacement is coming, probably very soon, and they intentionally want to immiserate most people beforehand so that we won't have the resources or will to mount any consequential protest as the cities start to flood and burn and trains start herding us into camps.

You might have heard of The Great Reset. Like all other reflections of our horrific future, the political media recently began referring to it as a "conspiracy theory." Indeed, it has been badly misunderstood by paranoid right wingers. But it's real. There was a Davos conference that was literally called "The Great Reset." Transcripts and videos of conference proceedings can be found with a 10 second Google search. These people put their ideology out in the open for everyone to digest, and now simply re-posting the things they said on record makes you a conspiracy theorist.

These types of Rich People Gatherings--Davos, the Aspen Ideas Festival, etc--should not be regarded as a meeting of soothsayers. They're not even really prognosticators. They are, instead, the collected mewlings of the modern clarisy. Their declarations are meant to placate the hyper elite, convince them that their destructive behaviors are moral and the current system is totally sustainable even though the ground is clearly caving in beneath their feet. 

You can think of the visions set forth at these conferences as sort of what the rich think the best case scenario might be.

The Great Reset's best case scenario is terrifying indeed: one of the very first slides announces that by 2030 upwards of a billion people will be displaced by climate change. We won't eat meat anymore (okay, fine, whatever). Oh, also, our economy will be entirely rentier-based. You don't have any possessions. You rent everything you use. You don't draw a steady paycheck. Everyone is a gig worker. There is no retirement, either; you work until you can't, and then you die. 

This is the world both of our wretched political parties want to build. To the people who control our fate, this is idealism.

The weirdest omission is that they all seem to think that the masses are just going to go along with it. India and Pakistan will not exchange nuclear weapons: each side will merely accept that their countries are no longer inhabitable and instead of fighting for water or territory they will simply sit tight and wait for immolation. Eritreans will humbly march themselves into the sea. American homeowners will simply shrug their shoulders and consent to signing all of their earthly possessions over to Citibank in exchange for a weekly allowance of 4 cans of Spam.

Is this naivety, or do they know something we don't? Are they stupid enough to simply believe that no one will fight back, or are they planning some type of mechanisms for the suppression of unrest?

Maybe neither? Because, honestly, I can't see any reform taking place no matter how bad things get. Next year--after Biden eliminates all remaining vestiges of the social safety net and unemployment hits levels never before seen since the dawn of industrialization and the police continue to murder people at will--we could very well see riots that are ten times as destructive as the ones that hit over the past summer.

So what? What will change? The government will act swiftly to ensure that the hyper rich don't suffer a moment of inconvenience. They will give everyone else the choice of either dying quietly or getting mowed down by cops.

Remember the French Yellow Vest riots? Those were morally clear cut: their shitbag neoliberal weasel president eliminated the wealth tax--because omg can you imagine the injustice of a Kardashian only inheriting 80% of their father's money? To pay for this, France instituted a regressive gas tax and incredibly cruel pension cuts. This generated two straight years of violent, disruptive rioting. Macron's approval rating cratered toward near the single-digits. 

What was the result? The wealth tax was not reinstated. The gas tax was not rescinded. The government made a minor concession on the pension reforms, cutting payments on average by 40%, instead of the 50% that was initially approved. 

This is the efficacy of protest. This is the best us non-elites can to do change the future everyone in charge has very explicitly said they want. 

The Democrat adoration for Biden sends a clear message: you get nothing. You will never get anything. You are a bad person for even asking for something.

I’ve mentioned this before, but Endless war, deadly austerity, and environmental destruction simply do not enter the liberal worldview. Anyone who tries bringing them up is a racist sexist bro who cares more about "preventing the oceans from catching fire" when he should be paying attention to something really important, like the newest trans Marvel hero. L-look at this Beefaroni commercial that features a biracial family... you gonna look at that and tell me we're not making progress? You ingrate. You fucking worm. How fucking dare you be upset that we just stole your pension? Your soul is so blighted by privilege you think you just deserve to not go bankrupt to pay for cancer treatment? 

That's the thrust of liberalism post-Obama. No solutions, just excuses. We're not going to help anybody. But we will give relatively well off people a means of justifying, in their tiny brains, why it's good when the leaders they adore act like cruel shitheads.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, August 21, 2021

Landlords look for an exit amid federal eviction moratorium (AP) When Ryan David bought three rental properties back in 2017, he expected the $1,000-a-month he was pocketing after expenses would be regular sources of income well into his retirement years. But then the pandemic hit and federal and state authorities imposed moratoriums on evictions. The unpaid rent began to mount. Then, just when he thought the worst was over, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced a new moratorium, lasting until Oct. 3. David, the father of a 2 1/2-year-old who is expecting another child, fears the $2,000 he’s owed in back rent will quickly climb to thousands more. The latest moratorium “was the final gut punch,” said the 39-year-old, adding that he now plans to sell the apartments. Most evictions for unpaid rent have been halted since the early days of the pandemic and there are now more than 15 million people living in households that owe as much as $20 billion in back rent, according to the Aspen Institute. A majority of single-family rental home owners have been impacted, according to a survey from the National Rental Home Council, and 50% say they have tenants who have missed rent during the pandemic. Landlords, big and small, are most angry about the moratoriums, which they consider illegal. Many believe some tenants could have paid rent, if not for the moratorium. And the $47 billion in federal rental assistance that was supposed to make landlords whole has been slow to materialize. By July, only $3 billion of the first tranche of $25 billion had been distributed.

Student loans (WSJ) The Biden administration announced it will wipe out $5.8 billion in student loans held by 323,000 people who are permanently disabled. This means the Education Department will discharge loans for borrowers with total and permanent disabilities per Social Security Administration records. Currently there is $1.6 trillion held in student loan debt, much of which could be eliminated through executive action.

New England preps for 1st hurricane in 30 years with Henri (AP) New Englanders bracing for their first direct hit by a hurricane in 30 years began hauling boats out of the water and taking other precautions Friday as Tropical Storm Henri barreled toward the Northeast coast. Henri was expected to intensify into a hurricane by Saturday, the U.S. National Hurricane Center said. Impacts could be felt in New England states by Sunday, including on Cape Cod, which is teeming with tens of thousands of summer tourists. “This storm is extremely worrisome,” said Michael Finkelstein, police chief and emergency management director in East Lyme, Connecticut. “We haven’t been down this road in quite a while and there’s no doubt that we and the rest of New England would have some real difficulties with a direct hit from a hurricane.”

Booming Colo. town asks, ‘Where will water come from?’ (AP) “Go West, young man,″ Horace Greeley famously urged. The problem for the northern Colorado town that bears the 19th-century newspaper editor’s name: Too many people have heeded his advice. By the tens of thousands newcomers have been streaming into Greeley—so much so that the city and surrounding Weld County grew by more than 30% from 2010 to 2020, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, making it one of the fastest-growing regions in the country. And it’s not just Greeley. Figures released this month show that population growth continues unabated in the South and West, even as temperatures rise and droughts become more common. That in turn has set off a scramble of growing intensity in places like Greeley to find water for the current population, let alone those expected to arrive in coming years. “Everybody looks at the population growth and says, ‘Where is the water going to come from?’” [one local professor] said.

Everything’s Getting Bigger In Texas (AP, CNBC, Forbes) Texas has long been a popular destination for newcomers, thanks to cheaper land and housing, more job opportunities, lower taxes, and fewer regulations. There’s also the great weather, food, schools, and medical facilities, the abundant resources and year-round recreation and outdoor activities, artistic and cultural events, fairs, festivals, music venues, and the diverse and friendly people—you know, just to name a few. Texas has always been a business-friendly environment, which has certainly not been lost on tech and financial companies headquartered in strictly-regulated and high-priced states like California and New York. There are 237 corporate relocation and expansion projects in the works in Texas just since the pandemic hit. Tech giant Oracle moved its headquarters to Austin in late 2020; Tesla is building its new Gigafactory there, and Apple will have its second-largest campus there as well. Both Google and Facebook have satellite offices in Austin, and the file hosting services company Dropbox will be leaving San Francisco for Austin. Recently, the global real estate services firm CBRE and multinational financial services behemoth Charles Schwab moved their headquarters from California to the Dallas area. Hewlett Packard’s cofounders were two of the original grandfathers of Silicon Valley, who started their company in a Palo Alto garage in 1939. Now, the corporation is moving its headquarters from San Jose to Houston. And the number of mega-wealthy individuals who’ve moved to Texas are too numerous to mention. It’s not just big cities like Dallas, Houston, Austin, and San Antonio that are seeing an influx of people—bedroom communities are growing by leaps and bounds as well—places like New Braunfels, located in the Texas Hill Country, Conroe, 40 miles north of Houston, and McKinney, just 30 minutes up U.S. 75 from Dallas.

‘Bracing for the worst’ in Florida’s COVID-19 hot zone (AP) As quickly as one COVID patient is discharged, another waits for a bed in northeast Florida, the hot zone of the state’s latest surge. But the patients at Baptist Health’s five hospitals across Jacksonville are younger and getting sick from the virus faster than people did last summer. Baptist has over 500 COVID patients, more than twice the number they had at the peak of Florida’s July 2020 surge, and the onslaught isn’t letting up. Hospital officials are anxiously monitoring 10 forecast models, converting empty spaces, adding over 100 beds and “bracing for the worst,” said Dr. Timothy Groover, the hospitals’ interim chief medical officer.

Grace heads for a second hurricane hit on Mexican coast (AP) Hurricane Grace—temporarily knocked back to tropical storm force—headed Friday for a second landfall in Mexico, this time taking aim at the mainland’s Gulf coast after crashing through the country’s main tourist strip. The storm lost punch as it zipped across the Yucatan Peninsula, but it emerged late Thursday over the relatively warm Gulf of Mexico and was gaining energy. The U.S. National Hurricane Center said Grace’s winds were back up to 70 mph (110 kph) early Friday and were expected to soon regain hurricane force. It was centered about 265 miles (425 kilometers) east of Tuxpan and was heading west at 16 mph (26 kph). The forecast track would take it toward a coastal region of small fishing towns and beach resorts between Tuxpan and Veracruz, likely Friday night or early Saturday, then over a mountain range toward the heart of the country and the greater Mexico City region. Forecasters said it could drop 6 to 12 inches (15 to 30 centimeters) of rain, with more in a few isolated areas—bringing the threat of flash floods, mudslide and urban flooding.

“Self-determination 1, Human Rights 0” (Foreign Policy) Most Latin American governments offered little official support to the U.S. War in Afghanistan when it began in 2001. At the time, Venezuela put forward a blistering critique of meeting “terror with more terror,” and then-Cuban leader Fidel Castro said U.S. opponents’ irregular warfare abilities could draw out the conflict for 20 years. Over the weekend, as the Afghan government collapsed and chaos engulfed Kabul’s airport, today’s leaders of Cuba and Venezuela echoed their critiques while foreign ministers of other Latin American countries diplomatically issued statements of concern about Afghanistan’s humanitarian needs. Chile and Mexico made plans to accept Afghan refugees, and several countries signed on to a joint international statement protecting Afghan women’s rights. To many in Latin America’s diplomatic and foreign-policy communities, the dark events in Afghanistan confirmed the importance of the principle of non-interference in other countries’ internal affairs. The extended U.S. presence in Afghanistan was “the same mistake as always: trying to build democratic states through the use of force,” Colombian political scientist Sandra Guzmán wrote in El Tiempo. Many Latin Americans stressed that methods other than military interventions should be used to work toward human rights, even as they acknowledged how challenging it can be to make progress. “Self-determination 1, human rights 0 #Afghanistan,” tweeted Uruguayan political scientist Andrés Malamud after Kabul fell.

Afghanistan war unpopular amid chaotic pullout (AP) A significant majority of Americans doubt that the war in Afghanistan was worthwhile, even as the United States is more divided over President Joe Biden’s handling of foreign policy and national security, according to a poll from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research. Roughly two-thirds said they did not think America’s longest war was worth fighting, the poll shows. Meanwhile, 47% approve of Biden’s management of international affairs, while 52% approve of Biden on national security. The poll was conducted Aug. 12-16 as the two-decade war in Afghanistan ended with the Taliban returning to power and capturing the capital of Kabul. Biden has faced bipartisan condemnation in Washington for sparking a humanitarian crisis by being ill-prepared for the speed of the Taliban’s advance.

The U.S. Blew Billions in Afghanistan (Bloomberg) The rapid collapse of Afghanistan’s government to the Taliban fueled fears of a humanitarian disaster, sparked a political crisis for President Joe Biden and caused scenes of desperation at Kabul’s airport. It’s also raised questions about what happened to more than $1 trillion the U.S. spent trying to bring peace and stability to a country wracked by decades of war. While most of that money went to the U.S. military, billions of dollars got wasted along the way, in some cases aggravating efforts to build ties with the Afghan people Americans meant to be helping. A special watchdog set up by Congress spent the past 13 years documenting the successes and failures of America’s efforts in Afghanistan. While wars are always wasteful, the misspent American funds stand out because the U.S. had 20 years to shift course.

Western groups desperate to save Afghan workers left behind (AP) The Italian charity Pangea helped tens of thousands of Afghan women become self-supporting in the last 20 years. Now, dozens of its staff in Afghanistan are in hiding with their families amid reports that Taliban are going door-to-door in search of citizens who worked with Westerners. Pangea founder Luca Lo Presti has asked that 30 Afghan charity workers and their families be included on Italian flights that have carried 500 people to safety this week, but the requests were flatly refused. On Thursday, the military coordinator told him: “Not today.” Dozens of flights already have brought hundreds of Western nationals and Afghan workers to safety in Europe since the Taliban captured the capital of Kabul. Those lucky enough to be rescued from feared reprisals have mostly been Afghans who worked directly with foreign missions, along with their families. European countries also have pledged to evacuate people at special risk from the Taliban—feminists, political activists and journalists—but it is unclear exactly where the line is being drawn and how many Afghan nationals Western nations will be able to evacuate.

#headlines #news

[secondhandnewsradio]

SHN INTERVIEW: Sleep Walking Animals

by Claire Silverman

photo: Ryan Hall

Sleep Walking Animals, the indie-folk alternative rock band from Manchester, England, have just released their self-titled debut EP. Since SHN first interviewed the band at the start of the year, they have released two more singles, started playing live shows again as restrictions opened up, and have announced a co-headlining tour around the UK in October. At their EP launch gig at the Fiddler’s Elbow in Camden on the 20th of September, they performed their new music to a sold out crowd.

CS: Congrats on the EP coming out. When we spoke back in February, you mentioned your plans for the EP, so it’s very exciting that it’s here now. How are you all feeling?

Tom: Like it's about time.

Jack: “Angus’ Fool.” “Wild Folk,” and “Dance Laura Dance” are on the EP, so we started recording this EP in October 2019. So it's been a big process, and the EP is kind of about that process.

Tom: We didn't want to release things until we were happy with everything, because we did record enough songs back in 2019 to go on an EP. But in post [production], we were a little bit concerned that they weren't all up to the standard that we wanted. It was our first time in a studio together as well when we recorded those songs, so we needed to practice, we needed to get together more and get more experienced in the studio. Then we ended up going up to Stockport and using a studio called Green Velvet Studios and we laid down five tracks, three of which are on the EP.

Jack: So, yes, excited.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: Is there an overarching theme across the EP?

Tom: It feels like it's very much about things that have happened to us in the time it took to put the EP together, and things that have inspired us enough to write about, you know, various introductions to people, to new experiences, illnesses, life events that sparked something within us to try to make a good song out of.

Jack: The whole EP spans across when we started the band in 2018 right up to now, so a lot of the songs are about growth and change. But the songs are about our growth musically as well, which is a nice kind of coincidence.

Tom: “Angus’ Fool” was the first song we ever wrote together, so the EP spans from our first song together to things we were writing in lockdown. So like Jack said it’s a span of two and a half years.

Alex: “Native” was written after we played Farm Fest [this summer].

CS: So now that you have more music out and have started to establish your sound, how did you figure out what genre of music you wanted to make?

Alex: It's funny, you just mentioned “Native” and I think that was the point that pushed us to fatten up the sound a little bit. I mean, the style of the song made us realize that we can push it a little bit more. And we have a few like one recorded songs, which are definitely a lot more rock-y.

Tom: We're inspired by all sorts of different bands as well. And, you hear it said a lot but a lot of great artists steal from other great artists and that's how they become great, so we're taking influences from people that we all listen to. So this is why it's hard whenever anybody asks “so what kind of genre of music do you play?” I can never really answer that because it’s changing all the time.

Jack: But I was saying to Bill the other day, (he's not officially in the band yet but he kind of is. He's the drummer who played with us on Monday) we've never really spoken about what genre we want to write. We didn't speak about influences, particularly.

Tom: We're just going with ideas. We all have our own little pockets of interest that we bring to the table and I think that’s what makes out sound quite unique

Alex: When someone brings something and then all of a sudden there's so many layers on top of it, which are coming from all kinds of different directions. And it's just hard to put your finger on what it actually is. But it's cool and we like it.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: It seems as though COVID restrictions are kind of mostly lifted here in England. At least, concerts are happening again. What's that been like, through the pandemic till now, and being able to play live shows again?

Tom: It’s been a massive relief, really, it means that we can get out there and get some gigging experience, start playing our stuff live. It's a completely different beast to be in the studio, it’s a completely different skill to have. And the more we do it, the more we’ll improve, and the more people will respond well to our gigs. There is such a massive impact from a live gig that you don't get from sitting down and putting your headphones in and listening to the Spotify track. You get the performance, you get the live engagement with music, and with the people on stage. That's just palpable.

CS: Since you're all performers, you're all actors, how do you think your other stage experience impacts your music?

Jack: That's an interesting one. Because I think the three of us are definitely coming out of acting and want to follow music, solely. Obviously, Tom, you both really well. [Laughter] And Nuwan’s also still following both. It's just something that when we are playing live, and it's going well, and there aren’t any technical issues, that we can just give ourselves completely to that moment. And I think that's easier for someone who has trained to do that, which is kind of what we did at drama school, I guess, to give yourself to the moment,

Tom: Yeah, there are great artists and performers, actors, musicians who haven't haven't gone through a formal training process. I think it's actually more important than training. Personally, I find the two things very different, being onstage as a member of Sleep Walking Animals and being on stage or on screen and being an actor in a role. I think the only similarity for me really, is the fact that when we go on stage as Sleep Walking Animals, I feel myself put on a character. I'm not Tom, I’m whatever else that is.

Jack: John. [Laughter]

Tom: I think we all do that whether we realize it or not. Because we'd be crippled with anxiety and insecurity and all the other horrid things that sort of flood into you when you're onstage performing in any way, you know, those don't happen or they sort of diminish if you put on that guise. So I guess that helps in that sort of transition.

photo: Claire Silverman

CS: You mentioned Farm Fest a bit earlier. What was it and how did it come about? And how was it?

Tom: So Farm Fest is a new, upstart festival that myself and my girlfriend Lottie host and organized. It's on her childhood farm and it's something that Lottie had wanted to do for a long time, to use that land to provide a space for a festival, entertainment, camping. We started it a couple years ago. There was that little bit of time between lockdowns where we got a weird freedom in the summer of 2020 and people felt like it had kind of gone away. Luckily, we all collectively know a bunch of musicians and comedians. It started small and then this year, we did it again. We charged a bit more money for tickets, and we are getting bigger and better. It feels like it's sort of gaining a bit of momentum. And it was the highlight of our year, we got to perform on a mainstage with a great sound set up. For us it was a big crowd to play to who all knew the songs and were singing along. It felt like a real festival, right.

CS: You guys are pretty active on social media, at least on the Sleep Walking Animals account. You guys don't always take things super seriously, which I like. What’s your approach to using social media? What do you think of it?

Jack: I wish we didn't have to. I think we probably all do realize the importance of it because Instagram is pretty much the only way of promoting anything, which is so fucking sad. Yeah. And I thought today, because Joe and I are reading a book about Joy Division and the start of the punk scene stuff, and they didn't even have t-shirts, because they wanted to stick it to the man and that kind of thing. But you just can't do that now. It's just like times have changed and there’s so many bands and so many artists that you have to be on it. Like, it will only be a matter of time before we go on to TikTok.

Tom: As an unsigned band without management or label yet, you know, we're left to do it on our own. Like Jack said, it's our only way of letting people know about our music. We might as well try and enjoy it if we've got to do it.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: Now that the EP is out, what are your future plans for the band?

Tom: World domination?

Joe: Recording.

Tom: Yeah, more tunes. We've got quite a few unrecorded ones. Keep doing what we're doing, really, following the footsteps of the people and bands and artists who have inspired us. Just keep going with it and see what happens. We're not putting immense amounts of pressure on ourselves. We do it because we love it. We do it because we think our music is worth pursuing. Yeah. Just see where the wind takes us.

CS: And you've got a tour coming up in October.

Jack: Yeah, a UK tour. It’s a co-headlining tour with Polary and My Pet Fauxes. So we're playing in different cities and we're all sharing the headlines slot and supporting each other at the different venues.

Tom: The 17th of October we're playing Leeds at Oporto, then on the 18th at Dublin Castle in London, the 19th we’re in Bristol at Crofters Rights and then the 20th at Night & Day in Manchester.

CS: Good luck for those shows and again, congratulations on releasing your debut EP.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

Listen to Sleep Walking Animals’ debut EP here

Follow the band on Instagram Twitter Spotify YouTube 

sleepwalkinganimals.com

#second #shn radio #sleep walking animals #tom glynn carney #jack brett #joe etherington #alex hartford #nuwan hugh perera #new music #new release #new ep #angus' fool #wild folk #dance laura dance #native of the northlands #taste of it #the drone interlude #polary #my pet fauxes #farm fest #indie music #alternative rock #alt rock #folk music

[aquietwritingcorner]

Comfortember 2020 Day 19: Memory Lane Word Count: 1048 Author: Katie/Ally (aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl)   Rating: T Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang Warnings:         Summary: Even places with bad memories have good ones. And perhaps more good ones can override the bad ones too.   Notes:  I mean, I gotta have a good Royai story or two in here.

  Memory Lane

  Riza stood in the yard, looking up at the big, imposing, crumbling home before her. It was still intimately familiar to her, even with its sagging frame, peeled pain, falling shutters, and cracked windows. The grounds, too, once cared for, were grown up around it, the shed and chicken coop fallen in, weeds having overtaken the garden, and flowers and bushes growing wild without any maintenance. Beside her, Roy stood, close enough to reach out and hold her hand if she needed it.

“Are you sure about this?” he said, looking at her with a bit of concern.

She looked around at everything and didn’t answer him. “I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten,” she said instead.

He didn’t push. “It does look pretty rough,” Roy admitted. “You can’t even see the garden anymore.”

“You can still see some of the plants growing there, though,” she said. “The fig bush too. And it looks like there are still some trees in the old orchard that are producing.”

“Can you?” he said, and his lips quirked up in a smile. “You were always better at identifying the plants then I was.”

She smiled. “That’s true. How many times did I save you from eating something that would have hurt you?”

“More times then I can count,” he admitted ruefully. “You also had to teach me how to look out for your traps.”

“You learned, after the first dozen times being caught in one of my snares and hanging upside down from a tree,” she said with a grin.

“Hey, what did you expect of a city boy like me?” he protested.

“I expected you to learn faster,” she teased him. “You were smart enough for my father to keep around after all,” she said.

“I was,” he confirmed, and reached over to hold her hand. “But I guess the outdoors just eluded me. Although, to be honest, I think it was because you distracted me. How many hours did we spend out here under that walnut tree?”

“A lot,” she admitted. “That was how you fist figured out how good my aim was. I was taking other walnuts and throwing them at the ones still on the tree to get them to fall. I was tired of being hit by them when they decided to fall on their own.”

He laughed. “And then you took them, used them in our food, and sold the rest.”

“They had to have some good to them somehow,” she said. “You can’t say that I didn’t know how to make use of everything or find someone who could make use of it.”

“No, that’s true, you did,” he admitted.

They stood there for a moment more, and then he tugged her towards the house gently, taking the key from her and opening the door, going in first. “Be careful,” he said. “It’s not in good repair. There’s a lot of mold too, so we probably shouldn’t stay in here too long.”

Riza entered carefully, taking care about what she touched or where she stepped. “Looks like animals have gotten in here too,” she said, looking around.

“Yeah. It’ll take a lot of work to get this place in shape again,” he said.

She stepped into the living room, looking at the old radio in it. “Remember teaching me to dance in here?” she said.

“I do,” he said fondly. “Your father wasn’t too happy I wasn’t studying.”

“Father was never happy,” she said dismissively. “But that moment made me happy.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “It was a happy moment for me as well.” He looked at the fireplace. “We spent a lot of time here as well,” he said. “Laying in front of the fireplace and studying or working on things.”

“I taught you how to knit,” she said.

“And I helped you with your homework,” he said. “I didn’t have much else I could help you with.”

“You helped me clean. You became quite good at washing dishes,” she said.

“Yeah, but I never could figure out how to cook,” he admitted.

“Oh, I know,” she said. “I stopped enough fires from you,” she said. “Not to mention had to scrub on enough pots. But you did keep me company in there.”

“I liked keeping you company,” he said. “It was enjoyable to just be around you.”

“I liked it too,” she said, smiling at him.

“We’d spend a lot of time in the library too,” he said. “I’d been studying hard, and you’d be working on your lessons from school.”

“It was nice to just be together like that,” Riza commented. “And being downstairs we were further away from Father, which was also nice.”

“True,” he said, then laughed. “Remember when we snuck out to that festival, and the only way we snuck back in was through your bedroom window?”

She grinned. “Father heard us and thought we were up to something. He gave you a lecture and threat, if I remember correctly, and he yelled at me, left me in my room with it locked for a few days.”

“Yeah… that wasn’t fun.” Roy said.

She shook her head. “That part, no, but I never did regret going to that festival. Besides,” she grinned at him. “I had ways out of that room.”

“That’s true,” he said, returning the grin.

They were quiet for a moment more, the grins fading into something softer. Then, Roy asked her again, face serious:

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Riza looked around the room then were in, took a breath, and nodded, laying a hand on her slightly swollen stomach.

“Yes,” she said. “We’re going to need some place private to retreat to, and this is the perfect location. Besides…” she looked at him. “The memories here aren’t all bad. The ones with you are good, and I’d like to flood this place with more good memories instead of bad ones.”

“Alright,” he said. “Then I’ll make the calls tomorrow—and this, Mrs. Mustang, will be the private escape for the Fuhrer and his family.”

Riza smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “Good,” she said, already looking forward to the day that this place was remodeled into their own place, and the sounds of laugher overrode all other memories.

#comfortember #comfortember 2020 #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #royai #FMA #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma fanfiction #fma fanfic #Fullmetal Alchemist fan fic #fullmetal alchemist fan fiction

[ill-will-editions]

FEVER DREAMING IN THE NEW GENERAL ANTAGONISM 

Neal Miller 

March 22, 2020

We are living in the political fever dreams of COVID-19. Fredric Jameson’s oft-cited quip – “it is easier to imagine the end of the world than it is to imagine the end of capitalism” – is obsolete.[1]  Having spread across the globe, the coronavirus has become the background phenomenon and concern of every passing moment. And along with it has come the imagination of an end of capitalism. However contagious and deadly COVID-19 is as a virus, its existence as the virtual object of the world’s attention and inattention has proven far more viral in its capacity to change society – mostly by cancelling our sensibility for realism. The dull weight of the everyday has lifted to unleash nightmares and dreamscapes that have magnetized the attention of our species with a measure of universality thought to be obsolete in our post-hegemonic world.

The continuous streams of news and commentary can hardly keep up with the latest collapse of everyday life. They give us the mise en scène in which to play the endangered protagonist of a canned Hollywood disaster flic and yet we’re told to stay home, keep calm, and practice good hygiene. Stories like the one about the recent missile strikes in Iraq are quickly phone-scrolled into oblivion by the latest notifications about the disease. And so we find ourselves reawakening with disbelief to the same new reality each day. 

Following Michel Foucault’s Discipline & Punish, one might say that we live our reality as though caught between two fever dreams, which alternate depending on the nature of the immune response to the virtual presence of the virus. On the one hand, there is the suffocating nightmare of the global “plague city,” of governments securing human “life” by identifying all bodily movement and contact with disorder and death. The dream of governments today is to “return” us to a new normal in which they have won surpluses of legitimacy and control. The other dream is a dream of upheaval that won’t let go of all the vital signs of freedom amidst the pandemic. It wants to make irreversible all of the revived forms of class war, mutual aid, and social welfare, along with all of the autonomous means of survival not yet invented. 

The general antagonism today is the war on COVID-19. And whether we like it or not, we have been enlisted to the immune systems of global humanity. Yet the politics of today concerns the decision before us. Will our collective immune response intensify our cynicism about our dependency on governments? Or will we experiment with novel forms of relief and this newfound disbelief in the black magic of the economy? Will we dare to play in the festival-dream of new forms of collective life and reliance upon one another? 

The Nightmare of Governmental Realism

Today, quarantine lockdown extends from the “non-essential” flows of commuters to the fluids and gestures of our bodies, which have become paranoid colonial-style occupations of themselves. My body experiences itself as if on the other side of a gulf of unhygienic habits cracked open by the virtual omnipresence of COVID-19: I catch myself touching my face, I catalog the surfaces I’ve recently touched, and my proximity to others spontaneously triggers a quantitative calculation (“was it a distance of six feet or ten that was recommended?”). The new universal phenomenon is the object of a panicked consciousness immersed in a world that has been reduced to the medium for a disease vector. 

As for the engineers of the new order, China and Israel represent the nightmare line toward the most grim extreme of plague politics. Both have employed the metadata of people’s smart-phones to track their movements and all points of social contact. Each new case is a profile whose recent social history is rounded up for quarantine. The horizon here would be something like Chris Marker’s film La jetée (or Terry Gilliam’s remake, 12 Monkeys): humanity survives, but at the cost of complete imprisonment and dependency upon a specialized medical government.

We glimpse this suffocating nightmare in the undecidable decision facing governments with respect to their incarcerated populations: do they relieve themselves of having to manage and care for their masses of concentrated and confined bodies? Or, do they give the prison guards and wardens a blank check to administer order by any means necessary? Whereas Iran temporarily released 54,000 prisoners on March 4th, two weeks later Massachusetts prisoners lost the right to be free of cruel and unusual punishment when a moratorium was announced on all disciplinary measures for prison staff. The undecidability here is no doubt due to the intensification of what Foucault called the carceral continuum, or the fact that the “inside” of the prison extends “outside” into the racialized ghettos of urban metropolises. The quarantine regime of social distancing and “shelter in place” lockdowns has turned the “outside” into a vast space of confinement, however gilded. 

The Festival Dream of Relief

Against this new confinement, efforts at self-organization are cropping up all over in food distribution networks, rent strikes, requisitions of abandoned housing, and calls for debt jubilees. Such earnest efforts at organized care finds its parodic inversion in the devil-may-care attitudes of Spring Breakers migrating South, as well as paranoid social media speculation about riots breaking out amidst mass hoarding. All of it tracks with what Foucault called the “whole literary fiction of the festival [that] grew up around the plague.”[2] 

Things we struggled for only weeks ago have been given outright – and much more besides. In the U.S., conservative food stamp policies have been lifted, unemployment safety nets reinforced, moratoriums on various costs of living instituted, and political parties are fighting not over whether to give UBI, but how much. Those immunized in their home-bubbles are offered an increasing amount of freely circulating intellectual property, while, in Chicago, parking has been made free, evictions courts are on hold, and utility companies are giving away electricity.

The black magic of the economy has revealed itself in its very withdrawal from our lives, tempering our panic and fear with a small modicum of relief. As Dan Kois recently argued, this relief has shown just how much of American society and its ‘death on the installment plan’ is a sham.[3] The mask has come off and the wand behind the conjurations now appears in the simple arbitrariness of its operations. Why don’t all of the other ways we get sick, fear hunger, or struggle to stay afloat count as reasons for having free access to high-quality food, health-care, and shelter? If all it took was a wand waving to put a stop to bills, evictions, and the like, does this not make all of our sufferings and hardships under normal circumstances seem meaningless?  

Just as we let out our sighs, however, the nightmare visions from abroad come closer and remind us that the only continuity between what was once normal and the current state of exception is the power of governments based on our dependency. We feel this dependency whether we panic or not, whether we trust their assurances and injunctions not to hoard or whether the sight of emptied shelves floods our heads with visions of the broken supply chains and interrupted logistics that we rely on to eat. As Chuang rightly noted, the arrival of COVID-19 in Wuhan induced a paradoxical form of general strike: there is a profound work stoppage, but it is hollowed out and devoid of any subject of history. The subject of history: not even the coronavirus can assume this mantle. Our continued dependency makes the strike false.

Yet one cannot help but read the ‘New Deal’ on offer as a symptom of faltering government legitimacy and the fits of market confidence. In the U.S., the government is betting that an avalanche of compromises with Democrats will cover over the truther-response of the Trump administration and the stock sell-offs of Senate Republicans. As belief in the forces of order goes into convulsions, one thinks, ‘If they cannot guarantee our survival, all bets are off.’ As we take all these “gifts” coming down from on high, we ought to remember that the social welfare state of the 1930s New Deal was a warfare state. And what will become of our newfound alleviation without the invisible enemy that has, with its own magic, cancelled society?

A New Universal? 

On the brighter side of things, it’s worth observing that we have been given a hint to the riddle handed down from the failures of 20th century revolutionaries. For one fundamental limit of all struggles since the 1960s has been their scale. It has been a very long time since we’ve been able to think what might connect struggles happening all across the world. Despite being geographically dislocated from one another, the revolts of 2019 showed promise simply in their synchronic co-existence and their ability to repeat each others’ tactics under the maxim “Be water.” Yet not only were the problems at the heart of these struggles locally particular (despite their many commonalities), they were never able to flow together in a global strategy.

Against such a backdrop, COVID-19 portends a new universal frame of war. For however uneven the experience of vulnerability may be, the global spread of the coronavirus amounts to the generalization of the new antagonism. When was the last time we were able to share our experience of dependency on the world of governments as a crisis? The multi-generational time-scale of the climate catastrophe has so far prevented it from mobilizing all of the humanity that it dooms. Yet whether it is glowing from our screens or hanging in the ambient disquiet while we distract ourselves in quarantine, the new reality for everyone is that reality has fallen apart. 

In these fever dreams where trust in the authorities is in shorter supply than food and the means of punishment alternate between melting into air and locking down hard, it is perhaps possible to take the wand from the magician and begin conjuring a reality of our own. What is frightening about COVID-19 is how little we know about it. But just as uncertain is how governments will react to us amidst this legitimacy crisis and how peoples will respond when the repression of governments comes down too hard. 

How can we flee our dependency on the old world while “sheltering in place”? If the world is cancelled, what are all these bills, digital parking meters, and universities but the fossils and tombs of a dead world? What new uses can we still invent for what stands idle and unused around us – what role can they play in the new dream? How can we breathe new life into existing spaces of immunity, like vehicles and homes? And what new immunity spaces remain to be invented? What new forms of action at a distance are called for? We are already venturing tentative answers to these questions. We try to flow like water where we still can. However, against a virus that fills our lungs with fluid and against governments seeking to return us to the earth of realism, perhaps we should consider the element of breath, levity, relief, and jubilation: air. 

[1] Jameson, Fredric. “Future City.” New Left Review, 21, May-June 2003, 65-79.

[2] Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish. New York: Vintage, 1995, 197.

[3] Kois, Dan. “America Is a Sham.” Slate, March 14, 2020. https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2020/03/coronavirus-tsa-liquid-purell-paid-leave-rules.html  

#covid19 #Coronavirus #biopolitics #war #immunity

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 1: First Day of Fall

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 1/31 A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve decided to participate in Fantober 2020. Every day in October, I’ll be posting a short MakoHaru fic corresponding to the prompt of the day. I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 850 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff. Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

                                           ------------------------------------- When he swung the library's door open, the crisp autumn breeze ruffled Makoto's locks and sliced at his neck. In the few hours of studying after class, the temperature dropped considerably and he shivered inside his light, olive-coloured jacket.

"Aren't you cold, Haru?" he asked as he pulled up the zipper, eyeing Haruka's bare forearms.

Haruka shrugged. "It's only September. Two weeks ago you were complaining about the heat, wishing the weather would cool down a bit, and now you're complaining about the cold?"

A light chuckle escaped Makoto's lips. "I'm not complaining yet, just asking. My complaints are reserved for December."

Despite his large physique, Makoto had never done well in extreme weather no matter what end of the spectrum. And truthfully, neither had Haruka, he simply wasn't as vocal about it. Whenever the thermostat reached above thirty degrees and there was no body of water nearby for a quick dip, his cheeks would redden and an adorable pout twisted his features. He never voiced his displeasure, but his eyes were filled with unquenchable longing for his next submersion. It was pretty cute, yet the joy radiating off his face when he finally got to swim again - which was usually the next day - was unmatched.

It was a shame Makoto wouldn't be able to see that look on him for at least another nine months or so, but in the meanwhile, there were lots of other things he could look forward to."It's crazy how quickly the weather can change, though," he said as they strolled through the city, heading towards the train station. "But I'm kind of excited about this season: the leaves changing into all sorts of pretty colours, eating roasted sweet potatoes at the park, visiting cultural festivals, holidays, cuddling up underneath your grandmother's quilt while watching a movie."

"A scary movie?"

"Absolutely not!"

A soft, almost inaudible snort left Haruka's nose, an expression of amusement, and Makoto couldn't help but smile. Although the wind was rather frigid, being with Haruka always flooded his chest with warmth.

"We won't be able to swim outdoors anymore, but I guess fall isn't the worst," Haruka said, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. The tips of his fingers were dyed pink and when Makoto traced his gaze up over his arm, he saw the tiniest of goosebumps erupted on Haruka's skin.

"Are you sure you aren't cold?" Makoto asked, and Haruka defensively rubbed at his arms. "Do you want my jacket?"

"If I took your jacket, you'd be freezing and you'd moan about it the entire way. I prefer being a bit chilly. I can handle the cold better than you anyway."

There was no use arguing because Haruka was right. Maybe they could speed up their pace to get to the station faster. "Sorry, Haru. If I knew beforehand the wind would be this strong, I would've brought you a cardigan."

Haruka's cheeks flushed pink, but Makoto was pretty sure it wasn't because of the weather. "Idiot, I should've brought my own jacket."

This look on Haruka was a sweet one, too. His nose tinged red by the sting of autumn, his otherwise tidy hair swept astray until it got officially cold enough to wear a hat, unconsciously huddling a bit closer to Makoto so his wide frame blocked out the icy wind. If this was the sight he'd see for the upcoming six months, then maybe Makoto could learn to love sweater weather, too.

"If you're that cold, you can stay over at my place tonight, if you want," Haruka said, averting his eyes as he kicked at a stray leaf.

It wasn't like a snowstorm was headed their way, putting the trains out of order and preventing him from getting home safely. But Makoto would've been out of his mind if he declined such a lovely offer. "I'd like that."

"When we get home, I can make us some hot chocolate," Haruka said, still not meeting Makoto's gaze.

"Oh, I could really go for a warm drink right now, especially hot chocolate," Makoto sighed marvelling at the thought. "Do you have marshmallows?"

"I don't, but we can stop by the convenience store to get some," Haruka proposed, "As a reward for… starting your essay."

Makoto giggled. "I haven't finished it yet, though."

"Starting is the hardest part, and you were dreading it, so."

It was an excuse for giving in to Makoto's sweet tooth, but the meaning laced through his words didn't get lost on Makoto. I'm proud of you.

"Thanks, Haru," Makoto said, and he gently grasped onto Haruka's hand and entwined their fingers, tugging Haruka to his side so their arms brushed. "In the meanwhile, I'll keep you warm."

Haruka only huffed, but he didn't pull his hand away. On the contrary, he leaned in even further, till their shoulders bumped with every step.

Every season had its charm, but if this weather brought him hot chocolate and a good reason to hold Haruka's hand on the walk to his apartment, then perhaps fall would be his favourite season of all.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #fantober 2020 #my fic #colourful days with you

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

remembrance

asdl;kfsjadfjaj im late to the party again

AU where October 1st, 2020 is not Mid Autumn Festival because I don’t know how that’s gonna change China’s thoughts. Happy (almost late) birthday Wang Yao! Enjoy; feedback and comments are welcome and appreciated!

~~~

Yao wakes early that morning, earlier than he usually does. The sun has not yet risen, and he lies still in the semi-darkness, eyes closed, waiting for the vague haze of sleep to clear from his mind. But even through the fog in his brain that muddles him like baijiu and blurs his thoughts into indistinct shadows, he knows, instinctively, that it is October 1st again. It is his birthday again.

When he steps into the overgrown lot beside his apartment, it is lighter, pale glimmers of lemon yellow and peach pink blushing over the horizon. The air is still crisp, not yet choked with smog and car exhaust, and he breathes deeply; it is rare for him to find clean air in Beijing, and something about it—the cool air, suffused with morning dew, the quiet, still morning, the plaintive chirp of the last autumn crickets in the weeds—brings him back to the old days, when everything was simpler and time passed slower.

So as he stands, looking around at the last patch of non-cement ground teeming with plant life unmanaged—untouched—by humans, he lets himself go, lets himself sink back into his memories of the past. He lets himself remember when there were small gardens full of vegetables on every street corner, before the tall skyscrapers came and sprouted through the concrete; lets himself go back to when farmers used cows instead of tractors; lets himself recall the times when people were not rich and cities were not the place to be; lets the memories of the wars (against his own people, against Kiku, against Arthur, against them all), the peace, the art, music, inventions, and the sacrifice; lets them all flood back again. Just this once, he will allow himself to be pulled by the stirrings of memories, to turn them over in his mind, to reflect, to remember.

Later, he will walk to Tiananmen to watch the sunrise flag raising ceremony, listen to the speeches, linger at the food stalls, watch his people talk animatedly about their plans for the next few blissful days off, perhaps even take part in the festivities himself. But that is later. For now, he sits still, listening to the melodic chirp of crickets, allowing himself to remember everything that has happened and everything that he has seen, done, fought, sacrificed over four thousand years.

#aph china #aph china fic #hws china #aph china fanfic #hetalia fic #hetalia fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #hetalia #aph #hws #musings #fic musings #aph china fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #aph fanfic #hws china fic #aph china musings