Pleased to hear an update on the possibility of this lil Honest Eds neon returning to Mirvish Village via @westbankcorp who is developing the space.
Thanks for the news @jacklandauphotography + @signsthatdefine.
These two shots are from 2016 when I was documenting the site for a future historical project. If you're not familiar with this hidden #neon amidst all the wild signage on this corner, it was in the back alley at the parking lot.
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Saw a Take earlier today like "Ed stans have only 1 argument and it's accusing everyone who likes Izzy of being problematic" or something to that effect
and it made me think "Nah babe, you're not problematic. You're just wrong."
And then I thought. Huh. Why do I think that?
It's a perfectly respectable thing to read a text in a way it wasn't intended to be read. In fact, "reading against the grain", doing critical readings, shifting perspectives when engaging with a text - all of thee are important skills! You can, and should, do feminist, antiracist, postcolonial, queer, etc readings of texts that were never intended to be read that way. Hell, all fandom (often) is, is doing queer readings! Ask the text uncomfortable questions it doesn't want to answer!
However. It's pretty difficult to do a queer reading when the text already is a queer narrative. The questions you would ask the text if you did a queer reading, or a reading focused on gender roles, or similar things - those are questions the text is already actively exploring.
If you want to do a subversive reading of a text that is already quite subversive - what do you end up with?
"What's the story like from Izzy's perspective?" is a question ofmd deliberately doesn't focus too much on because Izzy's perspective is the default and ofmd wants to challenge that. There's a reason the angry white man is the antagonist in this show, and if you ask "Okay, but could he be right though?" you're missing the point.
Or rather, you're turning everything that's interesting about ofmd back around. You're asking "Okay, but why don't we focus on a white perspective that strictly adheres to oppressive power structures?" of a narrative who already asked itself this question and gave the answer "Because that's been done enough and there are other stories worth telling."
And I think people are aware of that, which is how we end up with completely bizarre takes like "Izzy has the only queer character arc". He hasn't, but he has the only arc that a queer reading can be done on - for everyone else it's text, plain and simple. Refusing to engage with that text in favour of centering Izzy is basically doing a heteronormative reading without being willing to admit it to yourself.
And no, interpreting Izzy as a queer man doesn't change that.
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I like that ‘Gizmo’ has become Nadja and Laszlo’s nickname for Guillermo.
I imagine at first they genuinely didn’t care/would forget what his name is, but after time it became more about them stubbornly refusing to admit that they care/know anything about him by pretending they really thought Gizmo was his name.
Now it feels like it’s evolved to being a name they call him more out of habit than spite. They’ve spent so much time calling him Gizmo that it’s just who he is to them, they know his first name at this point, Nandor says it all the fucking time. It’s just that they’ve come too far now, they’ve committed to calling him Gizmo
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Stede's *sob* Last Story (Kinda)
(Parentheses in title because I'm a big believer in stories having a life of their own, and hell this is the kind of thing where a cast would agree to a movie in 10 years, and that's before we get to fanfic...but as far as OFMD the tv show goes, this is the last one)
Stede's last story doesn't really begin with him. It begins with Ed.
Ed's the one who's suggested being innkeepers. Who decided he wanted to stay on this island, to set aside the impossible bird and rest on land. Ed's adding one more story to his cacaphony of contradictory stories. But this one isn't an extreme "I'm THIS now, and my name is JEFF." It isn't a death, or a personality shift. It's a story he'd like to "give a go."
Stede used to be so obsessed with his own stories that he couldn't--or didn't dare--see what others thought of them. He had to learn to set some stories aside, in order to live the life he wanted to live.
And that's just what he's done here. The life he wants to live is one with Ed, and this is the life Ed needs to live.
This is the story Ed's telling. So, Stede tells it too. With his whole heart, and no second thoughts, none of the doubts and fears that plagued him for so long.
Stede may be binding himself to land now, to Ed, but he's more free than he's ever been--to tell any story he wants.
Ed is more scared than Stede. Is too willing, as always, to tell a story that devalues himself.
But Stede takes that story and transforms it. Because telling a story together is far, far more powerful than telling a story alone.
So Stede takes Ed's story and transforms it. Into something full of honest hope. No more buying a boat and crew and pretending to be a pirate hoping it'll change him; no more clinging to vision without action. The house needs work. The relationship needs work. The story won't become reality all by itself.
But it can.
And I love that Ed doesn't quite engage with this (yet). That even now at what turns out to be the end, he's still a bit more uncertain than Stede because he's just not as secure as Stede yet. Because that's honest.
Instead, Ed focuses on the practical. On needing some food , on the need for a bit of violence.
But that doesn't change Stede's story. And neither does the crappy smell awaiting them inside.
This is a story of hope. And it can shape reality. A heap of painted wood can be a real boy, and a terrible smell can be a smell of the future.
And Stede holds true to that long enough for Ed to finally join in telling this story. To say, "love that," and stop trivializing or devaluing the story he wants to tell.
And then Stede says "Me too." They're in the same place, telling the same story.
And then--now that the story has legs, now that the core truth of love is where it belongs, at center --Stede doesn't cling to perfection, to completeness. He doesn't try to pretend the smell is nice, or doesn't bother him.
He embraces reality, and goes about doing what needs to be done to make the important story true.
A seabird to land; a unicorn still standing in defiance of everything and everyone; two mad queers packed with insecurity and trauma finding love and peace together.
A last story, gently setting aside any ugliness of reality, kindly shoring up insecurities, and seducing its listener into becoming another storyteller.
Stede's stories carried him from one family, to another, to one last and truest family. The one he chose, with both eyes open. Took him to a home he'll build with his own hands, alongside his love.
It's story that will shape his reality--and that of those who trust him--forever. A story he'll tell, forever.
Because now, he can. He knows how.
And he won't do it alone.
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