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content-to-convert · 4 years

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VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR...

VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR it just made him dress nicer

By Pat Mellon

Speaking of your brand evolving, PODCASTS are now a wise bullet to have in the arsenal of promotional weapons. In the early 2000's, for instance, you didn't have the option to record and distribute a PODCAST. The technology didn't exist to even IDENTIFY, much less create one- if you typed PODCAST into an email in 2002, it would have been flagged as a misspelling.

But now, thanks to Audioblogging, re-branded as PODCASTING thanks to the iPOD, you can reach a targeted captive audience in a car on a long commute, with content that they've actually sought out. It's essentially a radio infomercial for the lifestyle of your product, without the PAID-PROGRAMMING aftertaste. Plenty of people have been slow to warm to the idea of such self-promotion and have waited to see if the technology and its effectiveness sustained or if it waned, the way QR codes did, or video discs did until the invention of the DVD. It can be an amazingly powerful part of your brand.

Many rejected podcasting, as I did initially, as a waste of energy. In fairness, early on when there were no networks for podcasting and its business model was less focused than now, it smacked of self-congratulatory volunteer work. I saw it as an infringement on my profession. I have 15 years of radio hosting experience. I saw podcasts as competition. In my short-sighted view then, I didn't see the full potential of a podcast. I just saw it as people wanting my job. But as time went on, I began to see the ways, at least in terms of in-car entertainment, that podcasting was the future. And like the cryptic fortune cookie says, "Kill Your Darlings". Or maybe go with the less-confusing, "Reinvent Your Business Constantly. The End Goal May Be The Same But The Tools and Methods Evolve Constantly" which is a Ken Tucker quote I saw on a Snapple Cap. Or even the more direct, "You Have To Reinvent To Stay Fresh and In The Game" which Madonna said once.

But early on, I saw it as the enemy - the way news journalists must have felt when FREELANCERS started getting a lot of the work in the late 90's. I thought, "If all you need to broadcast is a computer and an opinion, why the hell did I major in Broadcasting? It's like everyone becoming a Youtuber or a Social Media Influencer (seriously, that is NOT a good name. It's just saying what you're doing. It lacks creativity, like naming the glass thing you drink out of a "glass". Or the room with the bed a "bedroom". Or the thing you swing on a "swing". Or the... Sorry-I'll move on.) Anybody can become a Social Media Influencer these days, (and if they're under 14 and haven't been trying for half their lives then you might want to make sure they're breathing) and that means fame, sometimes money, but more important: LIKES. I overheard my 8 year-old playing with her friends and they were pretending there was a genie or something granting wishes and one girl asked for a pony, and another asked for a house of chocolate, and my daughter asked for a million LIKES on her video. LIKES are currency for pre-teen popularity. And LIKES or even merely PAGE VIEWS can be currency in the grown-up world of business. My point is that anyone with a computer and a camera can make money on Youtube if they hustle. It's simply the new normal. It's great, if not dangerous. We've yet to see the fallout of a generation raised on Youtubing, unless, of course, you count cautionary tales like Logan Paul or Jo Jo Siwa, both of whom are rich. It's simply another entertainment option for kids. I kinda thought podcasting was that, but for adults who only wanted quasi-fame; to show-off. But it's bigger than that.

If you're a plumber, for instance, and you want to maximize business, you probably want a decent social media footprint, some solid YELP reviews, and maybe even a podcast. Toilet clogged? Click here for an interview with master plumbers from all over. It's not the ONLY thing you should do. It's ONE of the things you should do.

On the consumer side, you have to realize that traffic, especially the bumper-to-bumper kind, is GOLD to a radio talk show host. People listen the most in their cars, so DJ's in New York and Los Angeles, the #1 and #2 radio markets depending on who you ask*, for instance, who entertain on the radio, are always on their toes to stay funny and relevant because it's so easy to push a button and change the station.

Then suddenly there was a new game in town. People were bypassing the radio altogether and plugging external sources into car sound systems, removing the commercials and unwanted Morning Zoo shenanigans, and rendering my entire college education and training void. My only hope was wishing death to the podcast movement, which I think I did a couple of times on the radio accompanied by a sound effect of a toilet flushing (Take THAT, Podcasting!). It didn't work. I kept hearing the word. Podcast. (eerie voice) PODD CAAAST! My head was in the sand. People would say to me, "you should do a podcast" and I'd cringe and wildly swing fists at imaginary ghosts who were accusing me of "Resting on your laurels" and "Holding on too tight.”

It took a while, but I get the appeal and, more importantly, the power of the Podcast. It's like a book-on-tape for the 21st century- 10 times as cool, though, because it's technologically relevant, and can be different every time you listen. So we agree that podcasts are real. And we acknowledge that there is room for many things on the dashboard of a car, be them outlets, or additional buttons. And we agree that the the way we do business is always changing and we have to adapt to some degree. So why all the hub bub? Because we can't have an intelligent conversation about the delicate existence of Podcasts without talking about Shane Gillis, the comedian who was hired and fired by Saturday Night Live in the same week last year. We need to understand the power of what it was that torpedoed his streetcar (tune into Mixed Metaphors with Pat Mellon Tuesdays on The Podd Couple, right after Poddamnit at 8, and Pod of Thunder with Gene Simmons at 8:17) He and a buddy do this show, this podcast, it's like a radio show but you don't listen to it on your grandpa's Victrola, you tether your MP3 player to the radio inside grandpa's Camry, and there's bad language, which there never is on traditional, boring old dumb talk radio, so right away, it's awesome (honestly, the only difference between Howard Stern on radio and Howard Stern on satellite is the F word) and the internet allows curses and take that, Mr. Suit and Tie, and this is going to be amazing. And on one particular show from 2018, Gillis said "chink" when describing someone in Chinatown. Not a huge scandal, but I guess you'd have to ask Roseanne Barr if the internet can get you into to any kind of trouble. She was exiled from the the entire US for a social media post that mentioned race and monkeys. And the same new normal that allows John Q. Anybody to do a podcast ALSO watches everything you do online and will sink you if it sees something it does not like. America can be confusing that way. Freedom of speech and freedom of complaining about freedom of speech are always at each other's throats, it seems. And you can't have it both ways. The guy who alerted the world to Bill Cosby's dating rituals online is loved by many but is also shunned by others, but that guy knows what he did and he knows not to complain about the ones who, well, complain. It's the price you pay.

The point is, you need to constantly be hustling and using all of technology’s modern tools to get your product out (they’re not burning DVD’s anymore) and maybe one of those avenues is a podcast with salty language, and maybe that podcast exists among your body of work that clients can enjoy whenever they want.

But we live in a new age of retroactive outrage. Eddie Murphy was on SNL and is arguably the most talented person the show has produced. He did a stand-up special in which he explores “What if Mr. T were a Faggot?” It was inflammatory and it was insensitive and it was homophobic (though that buzzword was still a decade from conception) because the premise of the joke- the attribution of homosexual behavior to a big, strong, black man being marginalized as solely predatory sodomy - crossed the line. When I spell it out like that it looks horrible. But it’s a simple comedic device: assigning unlikely behavior to someone for comedic purposes. It’s the fish-out-of-water gag. It’s why we had Mork, and Alf, and Balkie from Perfect Strangers. It’s Freaky Friday. It’s why The Rock playing a babysitter or a tooth fairy is funny. Murphy did this AFTER he was on SNL. But if has been released before he auditioned, do you think he’d have been hired?

Of course he would have. Because the Mr. T thing was a small part of that special (though, I recall, an extremely quotable part) and the people who didn’t like or appreciate the language didn’t have the bionic megaphone of the internet so they could get their outrage all over your conscience. The point is that your podcast is a reflection of your brand. You have to weigh your desire to speak freely and loosely with your desire to keep the Cancel Culture at bay. At a MINIMUM, though, you should keep things clean for your clients, listeners, and most importantly, your potential customers. Shane Gillis missed out of being on SNL and fame, instead on infamy because he broke one of society's biggest rules:he said something controversial out loud. Granted, it was in bad taste, but if that were a crime half of us would be in jail. It's just important to remember that your language on a work-based podcast should be professional, which I realize cannot be defined easily, but maybe stay away from slang and cursing. Just because you CAN doesn't mean you SHOULD.

#podcast comedy hilarious

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awesomewebcamwebsite7511 · 3 years

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Prostate Fearers, Available Your Rear End And Save Your Existence

They have balls to discuss the prostate, as small as a walnut, as concealed as http://query.nytimes.com/search/sitesearch/?action=click&contentCollection®ion=TopBar&WT.nav=searchWidget&module=SearchSubmit&pgtype=Homepage#/vip anthracite, so pitiful that you simply only discuss it whenever it hurts, so unseemly that you only get to it through the darkness of your rectum. It is to learn about rectal touch and hazard alarm systems are turned on, emergency exits are lit. Along with the toupee, that they feel will stay a finger the ass, you! that quoting Aragonese will not match you around or even the mustache of the shrimp. To your sacred balls, nobody details you there, it's wondering which you placed your testicles before you, so vulnerable that they can only acknowledge sensitive caresses, wondering licking, but a priori they don't work as shields with which to safeguard themselves from nearly anything. You only recall Saint Barbara in the event it thunders and that is certainly the reasons you proudly reject every invites to take a preventative test till the getting rid of feeling of pissing is intolerable and simply four declines of urine as well as a trickle of bloodstream come out of your urethra. It seems awful.

According to a reports item from your Efe Agency out dated 2018, only 4 away from every 100 Mexicans agree to possess a rectal test. It should be observed that within the Core American land prostate many forms of cancer will be the top source of passing away of males over 60 years. The refusal in the masculine inhabitants towards the examination (essential to find any abnormality, painless and sustained 15 seconds) is so powerful that urologists make recognition promotions making sure "the rectal test fails to alter erotic personal preference. Loosen up, a finger within the bum is not really much like the gay cobra, when they use it in you may not commence fantasizing about virile naked torsos anointed in oil. "It can do not adjust men's likes and will not cause harm to overall health or dignity". It is important to never abandon any area for question, your manhood is not at stake, only your lifestyle. Stay calm.

Prejudices usually are not special to particular area, they may have no limitations. However, statistics reveal that places with higher success rates also provide the most widespread analysis tests. In Spain, a lot more than 30,000 instances of prostate cancer are diagnosed annually and the five-calendar year success rates are now 85%. Nearly all cancers which can be within the preliminary phases are treated efficiently. No medical analyze is nice, no female ideas a wonderful Friday afternoon of shopping, buddies and cytology. You are going because you will need to, and that's okay. The same thing goes for a trip to the urologist.

"A male in bed can be a guy in bed furniture," warns a father to his boy in 'Dawn is not any small point,' because if you are a person as The lord planned, like Chuck Norris or Bertin Osborne, there is not any small pit or Vietnamese opening that becomes in terms of how. Gentleman permeates, girls and faggots permit themselves be penetrated, so it is written. Tough to transform? Possibly, but we have been blindly confident in the capacity of change since we left out the guillotines, the witch-eliminating and also the videos of Pajares and Esteso. Fully familiarize yourself with your whole body, the prostate is merely an body organ, another, it may become ill, irritated, free live adult web cam afflicted, but additionally, it may get you on the most extreme ecstasy, towards the paradise of atheists and sodomites and also to any deity we place as observe, in the event you visit it you simply will not want to go back to the anodyne Eden of those who worry what the rectum conceals.

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artificialzeezee · 7 years

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Sorry to my unknown lover.

Summary: Based on Halsey’s song ‘Sorry’. Roy reflecting on what he won’t let himself have. Roy reflecting on his insecurities and his mistakes, and the love he let slip away before it ever began. A drabble about Roy and Shane, and what never was.

“All you are is a bastard! You could never be someone’s boyfriend because your tongue is already so far up your own asshole!”

“Real classy, Shane. Keep ‘em coming, you think I haven’t heard this song and dance before?”

“Of course you have, I just never thought we’d play it! I never thought you’d be like this to me!”

Roy didn’t enjoy arguing. No sane minded individual did, unless they had some sort of God complex- and contrary to popular belief, Roy didn’t have one of those. Roy didn’t take pleasure watching people he loved in pain, he didn’t get a kick out of tears and screaming, and he wouldn’t choose to repeat any of the dark nights where his voice went hoarse shouting, while his partner curls up in ball of self pity on the floor. For Roy, arguments had become a regular visiter, but not a friend he greeted warmly. Just an acquaintance he begrudgingly accepted. All his previous relationships ended not with a whistle, but with a bang.

How did he end up here? A Friday night, laying on the grass of his garden, staring up at the stars and letting the summer breeze whistle past his anxieties. The over grown grass blades tickling the exposed parts of his skin, the midnight blanket attempting to coo him into a blissful state of relaxation, and the hammering of his heart drumming louder and louder every second he represses the aching of his chest. He should be out on the town, breaking hearts and living the extravagant life of an L.A bachelor.

This was a normal thing he did however in times of great difficulty. He use to retreat to a field a few blocks down from where he lived as a kid when he got stressed. When his mother flipped out after finding the red dress under his bed, when his father told him about his grandfathers heart attack, and when he’d gotten into a huge fight at school after a jock called him a faggot one too many times. He coped with fresh air, and silence, letting his conflicting emotions battle it out civilly. Roy would briskly trudge up the hill, counting every breath he took on his trek, and then lay under the twinkling night sky above him. Thoughts would begin to untangle from the web like a lucky fly, and the spider that spun the dread and anger from corner to corner of his mind would eventually rest. Then he was left fragile, but tranquil. He could breath again without the pang of rage boiling at the centre of his soul. Roy watched the silver balls of fire sit still and calm in the void, and he’d imagine himself to be them.

Against all odds, the stars weren’t sucked up by the mind numbing darkness. They carried on triumphant and bright, beautiful no matter what surrounded them, and he took inspiration from them.

He came out to his family. He started performing on bigger and better stages. He got a job as a costume designer.

He won Drag Race.

Somehow he always ended up the same way, as if he was still the twig-like, trifling kid from way back yonder. Laying on grass, trying to relax his rigid, uneven breathing, and over thinking to a point he may explode like a volcano. Why did it all have to be so familiar? Why couldn’t he move on, and stop relating to the 11 year old that would scream angrily through the burning tears streaming down his cheeks, crying into the empty space of an uninhabited park.

Roy rested his hands against his chest, focusing on the way they lifted and fell in time to his breathing. He began untangling the irksome knots of his worries, but he finds himself stuck on the most infuriating, intangible thought that he wanted to avoid at all costs. How foolish was he to pretend it would simply go away with some air and concentration.

Shane. The one and only reason he was currently laying in his garden at 12:42AM, with goosebumps and a sour expression on his face.

They’d gotten into a huge fight, and it had felt like an eternity of shouting until eventually Roy stormed off, driving into the night with Shane screaming bloody murder after him. His voice became nothing but a ghostly echo, and Roy was left with an eerie silence he didn’t feel any better about. Now he was all alone, he missed Shane, even at the worst. To miss the sound of someone’s screeching, even the sound of their heart ripping apart...did that make Roy satanic, or just human?

A few weeks after he was crowned on Drag Race, he was in a club with Shane; as regular as any other night on the tear with his friend. Arms slung over one another as they merrily sang along to whatever the DJ was playing, cheeks pressed together and words tossed around with little concern for the shattering effect they may have in the light of a sober morning.

Maybe it was the smell of apples in Shane’s hair, or the sparkling in Roy’s eyes, or maybe it was the bass pounding their blood through their bodies, but something was different that night. Shane laid his eyes on Roy in a way no one ever had, and as fast as the thought even crossed his mind, Roy threw himself at Shane for a sloppy yet passionate embrace.

Blurred delights and burning loins, Shane led Roy back to his hotel. Hands nervously tugging at damn material blocking their desires, hair caught in the tight fist of a lovers rushed need; the two barely had a second to take a breath before they were under the sheets, hot and sweaty. That was their first time.

It went on for months. Shane and Roy would meet, exchange pleasantries, have a couple bottles of wine, and find themselves in a mess of the others limbs, under a shameful blanket or duvet.

Eventually, they stopped drinking wine.

Eventually, they would sleepover after having sex.

Eventually, it was a dream come true...

So eventually, Roy felt claustrophobic.

He wasn’t good at relationships. He was good at casual sex, and he was good at being a shoulder to cry on, but the idea of someone depending on him, or his darkest, most vile secrets being shared with another person, scared him. Whole heartedly petrified him - spine tingling, hair standing up on his arms, sweat dripping down his forehead terrifying. Then there was the worst point of all, that this wasn’t just some yank he’d picked up at a bar, but it was one of his best friends.

And deep down, Roy knew he was falling in love with Shane, despite all the guards and walls he built up around him.

It was the most disgusting, despicable sensation to realise he was falling in love with Shane. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in love, but it was by far the worst, because the repercussions this time would mean tearing himself open, wounded and vulnerable. He knew so much about Shane - facts engrained onto the flesh of his brain, like his birthday or his best memory growing up, or even his mothers favourite song. So much about Shane had become who Roy was, and he despised the codependency they had fallen into.

Watching his “boyfriend” in one of his work shirts as a nighty, cooking breakfast, shinning in the toils of the sun’s rays that leaked through the window. Listening to the angelic, carefree notes of Shane singing in the shower. Watching him beam with pride when he made Roy laugh. Shane had, unfortunately, become Roy’s favourite pass time, but he wasn’t overjoyed by the soft glow of new love.

Commitment-phobe. That’s what Danny had jokingly tossed at Roy when he told him about his hatred for relationships. Who was Danny to talk anywho? The boy who wrote songs about fake falling in love with a stranger on holiday, and ending every relationship he had before they got too intense. Danny was a commitment-phobe just as much as Roy probably was.

But, he was young. Roy couldn’t afford to keep jumping out of bed every time things got serious.

He didn’t want to be alone, not in a long shot! It was just, love was never a sure thing. Love wasn’t an unbreakable bond, and relationships could crumble and end in tragedy when placed upon the wrong person. Roy felt that he was the wrong person, and Shane was not. Shane was kind, and bright. Shane was warm, and loving, and had a whole world to offer a person. How could grumpy, workaholic, narcissistic, pessimistic Roy even think about taking that world away from someone who truly deserved Shane?

So he started missing phone calls. He stopped sleeping over the now infrequent times they hooked up for sex. He stopped putting in the effort in an attempt to distance himself and save the friendship he cherished.

*Tap, tap, tap.*

Roy sat bolt upright as the sound abruptly shook him from his thoughts, looking toward the source. There sat his precious dog Dede, whimpering as she gave him wide, pleading puppy eyes, scratching at the glass every couple of seconds. He snickered, hiking himself off the ground to let her out.

She pounced at his legs, letting out soft yippie barks of excitement as he fussed over her, and then they were both sat back in the middle of the garden, quiet and calm. Dede snuggled up in his lap as he stroked her, recalling where his thoughts last were.

Lost. He was now thinking about how much Shane use to pamper his dogs, spoil them like they were his own, and how the two adored Shane as much as they did Roy. He recalls the time they spent all morning in bed together, the two small dogs snoring at the foot of the bed. Shane resting on Roy’s chest, their fingers linked and held against his chest. Roy can still feel the gentle pitter patter of his love struck heart against his palm, trying to break it’s way out of Shane’s rib cage.

I should never have kissed him. The most frequent thought that crosses Roy’s mind these days. Especially since the argument.

Shane had come round fuming, not even allowing Roy the chance to shut the door in his face since he had shoved his way through to the living room. His face was fresh with makeup, beautiful and soft, but nothing else he wore indicated drag. Obviously he’d rushed from a gig to get changed before bursting onto the scene.

It started with an unnerving quiet, just the intensity of Shane’s burning glare. Roy felt his blood boil just having the usually calm boy’s eyes glued to him. Then came the shouting - the horrible sound of distress coming from the most important person to Roy. He never had the strength to stop it however. Rather, a demonic part of him deep, deep down wants Shane to keep shouting; till his lungs burst; till all the days end and there’s no longer a life to fight against. It’s the flight part of his fight, that would rather Shane tier himself out of this “relationship” as apposed to Roy putting in the effort to be with someone he fits with imperfectly.

It’s a good thing, not to be perfect. Roy’s a little crooked and Shane’s a little bent out of shape and they fall together like two different puzzle pieces, miraculously working, despite the picture.

“What did I do to you, Roy? We were so good for so long, and then you stopped-”

“We? What are you even talking about, Shane! We were never a thing, and you know it!”

“How can you stand there and lie to me? Lie to yourself?!”

“You were nothing but a good fuck, okay? Why do you have to kid yourself and pretend this was more than it was? We’re two adult, single, men, who were lonely, and wanted sex. That’s it! That’s all this ever was, Shane.”

He’s lying. They both know it, like the markings on the back of their hands. Shane can see the desperate attempt at escape that Roy leaves exposed within the twinkle in the iris of his eyes.

“Stop playing the gobby, no feelings cunt you put on for everyone else. I know you, Roy. I know the real you, deep down-”

“Ah, what a load of bullshit. What you see with me is what you get. Sorry to disappoint you, Shane.”

“No, I’m not just a pretty face. I’m smart and I see exactly what is going on here. I’m not some sex toy you can discard when you’re done with me, especially with you, of all people! My best fucking friend, that’s who you are. So don’t you dare tell me I don’t know you, and don’t you dare pretend what we had was nothing!”

It went on for more than an hour. Roy threw his fist at the wall, Shane pounded his palm onto the coffee table, both ended up exhausted and no where nearer to an ending. Shane knew all their late night conversations meant more to Roy than he was letting on, but he also knew how unbearable the pain of unrequited love felt, and how at his age it just wasn’t worth fighting for. If it was anyone else, Shane would have given up. If it wasn’t his best friend - his rock to confine in - he would be home asleep, a little broken, but relieved.

Roy remembers cocking his jaw, slick with a sleazy smirk that would infuriate anyone who saw it. He remembers laughing mockingly, in time to the music of Shane’s shattering affections. He remembers when things got violent and both began hurtling insults back and forth, for no particular reason other than to hurt the opponent.

When would it end? It didn’t seem like either was going to get their way. Shane wasn’t going to walk away in a relationship and Roy wasn’t going to leave with a best friend. They would both end up angry and alone.

“All you are is a bastard! You could never be someone’s boyfriend because your tongue is already so far up your own asshole!”

“Real classy, Shane. Keep ‘em coming, you think I haven’t heard this song and dance before?”

“Of course you have, I just never thought we’d play it! I never thought you’d be like this to me!” Shane screamed, the foundation of his makeup unable to cover the burning red of his cheeks. “Why are you incapable of real human compassion? Huh?! You couldn’t just let us develop like we were, you had to be a prick! God, do you even realise how mean you can be? I mean for God sake, you kissed me all those months ago, not the other way round! You’re the one who started this...” Shane stopped, his chest struggling to keep up with his breath as he tried to settle the racing of his heart. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

I should never have kissed him. Roy cursed under his breath, a hand pushing through the tufts of his hair. “I know.” he whispered, to himself and to Shane. “I know. I never should have-”

“No, don’t take that moment away from me. I’m glad you kissed me.”

They’re on opposite ends of the living room, staring at each other, with less rage and more pity. Roy was broken. Shane was broken. Everything about them and between them was breaking. Roy wants nothing more than to hold Shane, rest a hand on his cheek and apologise till he’s used up all the words within him, and he’s contently mute. He wants to be able to love Shane without the fear burning away inside him, but the anxiety is too much. He’s convinced Shane could do so much better, and he’s convinced it’s written that he must spend his days alone. Shane believes in love, Roy believes in realism.

Roy grabbed Shane by the wrist. He dragged him out of the house, locked the door and got in his car, alone. Shane shouted for him to stop, pounding on the car window, begging him to resolve whatever it was he was missing. Roy just looked at Shane through the glass and sighed.

“Someone will love you,” he said, too quiet for Shane to actually hear against his persistent shouting, “But that someone isn’t me.”

He drove away, from his own home and from his dying love. He drove toward the unknown and the lonesome future.

Dede began to stir in her slumber, and before Roy could pick her up she jumped off his lap, scuttling back to the house. He watched her, smiling warmly despite the agonising twisting off his stomach. So many self destructive thoughts to match self destructive actions.

The stars glimmered high above, singing against the silent audience of darkness. Roy fell on his back again and just stared at them, in awe, hoping they would tell him what to do next. Such grace and beauty, dancing above for all the see but never to touch. He’d burn up the very second he lay the tip of his finger on them, and right now when he felt so conflicted and nauseous, it was exactly what he wanted. To become the shimmering star dust within the cosmos, with no problems and no feelings. Just a stunning chain of lights, free and admired.

It had been a day since the argument. It felt like a battle that had extended for years, the way his throat was tightening; reflecting on Shane’s depressed pleads and his distressed screams, pulling Roy down under and filling his lungs till he drowned in the same feelings. Why couldn’t he just accept love? Why did he have to run for the hills?

He could spend all his life analysing and still never come up with a clear answer. Childhood trauma, fear of abandonment, some other bullshit answer- Roy didn’t want to find answers as to why he wouldn’t, he just wanted to know how to unapologetically love Shane. To love him without the compulsion to back peddle, and to give him the undying, obsessive, proud love Shane truly deserved.

“I’m making it harder than it fucking has to be.” He spoke quietly to himself. “This is...fuck, why can’t I believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me?! Why am I...” He grunts, slamming his head down against the grass and squeezing his eyes shut as he settles the rising anger. “fuck.”

The longer he lay watching the stars, the longer he’s depriving himself of a blissful future in the arms of his very real love. The longer he lets his hot headed nature be the dominant feeling, the longer he is without carefree, tender intimacy.

“What was I to you then, Roy? Tell me- tell me right now, because I know I wasn’t just sex and you won’t convince me otherwise.”

“Then what the fuck is the point in me saying anything, you’ve already decided on the answer!”

“Are you telling me all the mornings we spent talking about our lives, stark naked, unable to take our hands of each other, was nothing? Because it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like everything!”

“You can’t just enjoy the bullshit. You have to ruin a good thing by putting thought into it-”

“Me ruin it?! You’re the one who started screening my calls, ignoring my texts! You’re the one who tried me on like a piece of cheap jewellery and threw me away! If you thought I’d just shrug and move on without a second glance back, you’re not as intelligent as I figured you were.”

“You’re use to being an over sized flesh light anyway, why are you-”

Shane threw himself at Roy, slamming him against the wall and screamed every crude insult he could think off. Roy shouted back, practically spitting, clenching his fists at his side.

It was ugly.

It was heart wrenching.

Why? Why did Roy ruin such a good thing, why did he destroy the one person who meant more to him than anything ever had?

When he was a kid, watching the stars use to do him a world of wonder and clear up the web of worries cluttering his thoughts. Now, in his 40s, it did nothing but leave him cold and star struck.

Should he call Shane? Or, was it simply too little too late? It seemed their fait was sealed; his ignorance had broken Shane’s heart, and he failed to see it at the beginning till he tore Shane up at the end.

#bitney #rpdr fanfiction #fic #(A drabble that ended up being almost 8 pages...)#first of my one shots done (i feel nervous to post...not sure why........)

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babakziai · 5 years

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damesirs of fishairs princes reginae I dont need this botheration guilded toe in a gendered pension embedded narcissism skirts can or could be worn w/ intentional disgrace getting oh-aff I sleep where I sit gog and magog ope myopia sweetness and delight do it for sidney, as starlover did rue on star, thir mistress cloying the lack, with thir poesis toying twill never hurt regina prince alack, areft locks beset candle agrove a buck in a corridor as like with likeness grace the tongue and sweets with sweets cloy them among conturbabimus illa let us confound them beasts implored and character impaled agathas breast in a 14th century pincer anon 7 heads w/ 7 comings on horns on their horns wings at their feet and at their wings well you have three seconds to live bespeckled apprentice freckled daylilly a penny uneasily pleaded myrtle iron bootblackening at the speed we levatate con there is no missus I am among limbed elms colluding with doves nor tide nor tail angels w/ svelte angles the rub and tug goils languid as jersey too early for supper etc was their pimp and whatever their sucker shitslinger master cleanser w/ corporate coffee and torture pâté my present page in l-l-livery old glut of a beast’s spleen the glory over lordling socked ajaw nassau ablog by fairly a sweepmate a swoopster bedeviled in gullet swashbuckld by proxy homosexuality eh? red river andaloos funny albeit friday all the dork-rock gender suggests we levitate avec held captive patrón, bothermonger ah myrtle why sie is taken my mind impertinent parasol glossy wit promise of salt caint leave thir cellphone alone ipode eternal satellite viscera muscadetted papillon (that one) strident 17 stallions with horns on their heads and horns coming out of the horns a papillon that one a buck in a corridor conturbabimus illa let us confound them all ridded of giggling anthropomorphia aghast DL in the bowries the tee hee ambigenuity of amputee-wannabees googling tee hee silly faggot dicks are for chicks dicks are for chicks wicked hee to bury my heart at my heart was in my knee Julian T. Brolaski, “elegy for kari edwards” from gowanus atropolis. Copyright © 2011 by Julian T. Brolaski. Reprinted by permission of Ugly Duckling Presse. Source: gowanus atropolis(Ugly Duckling Presse, 2011) Julian Talamantez Brolaski BiographyMore poems by this author Poem of the Day: elegy for kari edwards Poem of the Day: elegy for kari edwards Poem of The Day {$excerpt:n} Source: Poem of The Day

http://babakziai.org/poem-of-the-day-elegy-for-kari-edwards/

#Poetry #Babak Ziai

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noahpoligy · 5 years

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An entire “album”, written on 9/13/2019

So I got super inspired in the bathroom to “write an album” whatever that means. So, I sat down, and forced to write a ton of lyrics all in one sitting. The most I’ve ever written has been 2-3 songs at once, and well, here’s 10. I started grasping at straws towards the ends, whatever was coming to mind honestly. I was listening to “Rape Me” by Nirvana in the shower and I thought to myself “Why not change that to “Hate me”, because I personally feel like I have a fair share of haters, but none of them hate me as much as I hate certain aspects about myself, ya know? Anywho, I might fuck around and see if I can find demo versions of songs w/o lyrics or whatever and see if I can produce any of these into actual listenable songs. We’ll see. Sadly, my motivation goes away with as I sleep. It took me 3 hours to write all of this, and honestly I think I should mention that it’s a bit funny comparing the second thing I wrote to the last.

So I guess this is a “light” concept album. I think the one present theme that all these share is self perception and belief in one’s emotions and beliefs. I’m pretty tired as I right this, I can’t think of the word for that, if there is one. I’ll probably rewrite aspects of tracks 1, 4, 6, and 7. 1 looks too much like Rape Me, 4 needs “more”, I’d honestly like a rap section in there, 6 I’m just unhappy with some of the lines, it comes off as corny to me. 7 needs a chorus and the ending I just randomly threw in, so that needs to be fixed too.

Track 1: Hate Me

I hate me

You hate me, and my friends

hate me

I’m not the only one

I hate me

I’ll say it again and again

You’re a waste to me

You hate me and my friends

I’m not the only one

Every time I do anything it’s for the worst

A kiss would tag you as a whore

I appreciate your concern

I’d like you to die so you can burn

I hate me

You hate me my friend

Hate me

Hate me and my friends

I’m not the only one

I hate me

hate me

It sates me

========================================================

Track 2: Something More

She waits at windows

She daydreams all day

And sleeps away her frowns, for now

She just waits around wishing she

Could meet that single another

At night in a parking lot wearing that new dress she bought

Only for her to go back home, she’s let down easy

She goes out to buy a drink

I noticed the one Friday she didn’t, she was locked up high

There’s something about her innocence

That makes her chafe for love

And she’s down to explain what she’s looking for

She says she wants me and will help me become someone more

Dead leaves, the sky desolate of summer

I’m underage so I’ll stand outside while you get the drinks

Tomorrow you can smoke me out, and we can hang around the cemetery

Do we need each other?

We’re two discount lives without any numbers in our bank accounts

Do you think that if I wait around that maybe she

Might go back to her room and say it was all a lie?

She’ll tell her parents that she doesn’t know my name and I’ll sigh

Get out of my head demon, you’re dismissed

I will change for love

And she explained how long she’s waited for

Something more

Come, Goodbye, I might just see you another night, and if you don’t I understand if you can’t find that definite reason why you should stay. I’ll watch you walk away

She says that she will change for love

And she explains how long she’s waited for something more

And as these days go by, it ends that track of how long we’ve waited for

In love there’s more

In love there’s something more.

============================================================

Track 3: Self-Faith

Wrap me up in my true skin

Drag me in front of my mother’s eyes

My innocence is tragic

My innocence is damned

And in a sense I’m gifted because of it all

I can breathe underwater

I can fly high in the sky

I can burrow deep inside my chest

and stab another with my teeth

and I live underground

If you spend your love around me

You’ll know fantasies beyond your wildest dreams

And before you know it, your love is gone

Cause there’s nothing as awkward as what I see

And in your fear, you’ll disappear.

You saw my dreams, you saw death.

I believe in no one

I believe in another way

But my beliefs are not noticed

My beliefs are all held of faith

Faith in me, and that’s why I must escape

And in this ring our wedding will be true

And with this wring I will separate us in two

And with this ring you’ll see what’s in my head

And inside you’ll find the truth

Now let me tell you, if you spend your love around

We’ll enact our fantasies so they’re no longer dreams

You’ll find that your love is hard

And that it’s exactly what it seems

And no one will disappear

Even during the darkest hour

To the revelations

To the fresh baked victims

To the weak that have succumbed

They hate me

So speak your peace

While the drum drowns you out

You’re not wasting

A single breath at all

Because strength is your weakness

Your weakness is your hate

And it’s something you just can’t explain

You’re sniffing on some roses

They’re so beautiful

You’re getting so lost inside their smell

The others have come, to make you dumb

The others have come, to hold you down

The others have come, to hold, you, down

========================================================

Track 4: Run Away

Monkey see monkey do, run away

Fuck around and follow you, run away

I don’t like you, I’ll keep it in, run away

Another fool with pencilled skin, run away

There he is, take him out, run away

He never laughs he never smiles, run away

He can’t run he’s a cripple, run away

Let’s beat his ass, it’s good fun, run away

Run away Run Away

Run Away

Monkey see monkey do, run away

Fuck around and follow you, run away

Cut him up but keep it in, run away

Another fool with poisoned skin, run away

Run Away Runaway

Run Away

Run Away Runaway

Run Away

Away, Runaway

Run Away

Don’t Stay

Run Away

Don’t Stay

Get Away

Rat-a-tat-tat.

========================================================

Track 5: Who the Fuck Are You?

You say I’m gonna fall

Well I can’t wait to let you down

You say I’m gonna fail

We all know you’re a fucking joke

Get out.

You’ve lost equality.

Get out.

You’re below a fail.

Can anyone anywhere believe that you’re true?

Does anyone anywhere wanna be you?

You say I’m a faggot

Well at least I’m not a bigot, kid

You say I’m lucky

It takes knowledge to play the cards

Get out.

You’re a waste of sperm.

Anyone anywhere can beat you

Does anyone anywhere actually wanna face you?

Who’d wanna bother with you?

I guess I’d like to, bring it fucker.

Lousy, you’re knocked out sky high

You’re flat out dead in the head

Does anyone wanna support you?

Does anyone anywhere actually believe in you?

Does anyone anywhere wanna be you?

Do you wanna be you?

=========================================================

Track 6: Family Crest

I bathe in silence

I want you to notice

I’ve got a god complex

I already know I’m gonna pass the test

I’m on fire

I’d hold on their hearts from the inside

And squirm myself inside and take control

I want everything they have and I want it now

I’ll find a way

Today I can waste away

I once flew away

Far away, from all of this, and I nearly died

Miserable dust and homeless mutts

Hating my face and wanting to wither away without a trace

I didn’t hate anything else but my own and me.

I’m gonna bleed

To make me believe

That my hearts still there

But is it really? I need a fucking shovel

I’ll clean off the dust, our faces will meet

I disconnected by cutting the string

Anytime that you’d try to talk to me

I bathe in silence

I want you to notice

I’ve got a god complex

I already know I’m gonna pass the test

I’m on fire

I’ll hold onto their brains from the inside

I’ve got their heads believing in me

It’s not enough I want fucking more

I wanna bleed

To make them believe

Someone hurt me

So then maybe I’ll feel something

===========================================================

Track 7: Horribly Ever After

Let out the stampeding horses

Suffer in your suburban houses

Withdraw from the taste of the devil and God’s affair falling from the sky

Scream all you want you’re in a silent movie

Kiss up each other while your lives go tick tock

Beached by the groupies that are sick of your stuck-up hinds

Vacant is your deposition

Dead is your fleet of propogandic sources

Your sister is actually your aunt your father had an incestual affair

You scoffed away the very true sources

You chose to go to war against another’s imaginary friend

Blood is the key to eternal life and that’s why Earth wants more death

It’s about time

It’s about, concluding you

Black skies bring fears

Unleash armageddon, tute yourself and say one final prayer

it’ll be one last moment before you’re off where you belong my dear

Lust for a reality that is like the movies

A life where you survive the locusts

It all goes away when a angels voice says you’re damned for eternity for being a stupid sheep, you need to be fucking sheered.

It’s about time. Maybe now you can see

Too bad you suck

Too bad you’re dumb

You looked directly at the sun and now you can’t see

This is the final message

Soon you’ll be stabbed by the ancient armies

Death by thousands of roses

It’ll take years but that’s what you deserve

You’ll be raped by the soldiers

They’ll embroider their band on your skull

You’ll probably enjoy it, it’s like your inverted cross tattoo

I guess you got what you desired, your spot in hell.

Black skies bring blood

Black skies bring flood

Black skies bring you

Black lies bring truth

==========================================================

Track 8: Hysteria

I woke up to a message of love

Though I don’t think we’ve ever spoke on the phone

I’m obsessed with the poison of us

I wonder why I can’t seem to find one to trust

Is there even a soul living inside of ya?

Oh yeah oh no, there’s nothing in that stereo baby

I’d try to bridge on over and see what’s up but it’d crack under your pressure

You need a miracle

And I’m no miracle

You’re honestly hysterical

What the fuck is going on inside of ya?

I’m unimpressed with my presence at best

I get depressed from the needles of sunlight that bleed through the blinds

I make shit up so I think I’m the best

Honestly though, there’s no one I can trust

There’s no one living inside this universe

You can call me No Paranoia Noah baby

I’m the last motherfucker that’s not hysterical

I’m not one to crack under any amount of pressure

If you’re looking for a miracle it’s me

Now now, come on, get your broken soul out of bed baby

What’s so funny? I’m at least trying and you’re staying a degenerate

You’re lying in your bed about a broken phoney bone

Come on I see a spark of something in ya

Skip the jokes, escape living in hysteria

=======================================================

Track 9: It Will Become

The doorbell has rung, it’s coming true

The silence and the dread, it ends here

You’ve waited and now it’s time

Come into the utopia of....

The future of earth will become

There is a past yes, it’s clear.

You better take this face and choose your race and face the race for the constant search for anything

You’ve waited and now it’s time

Come into the the utopia of....

The future of your life will become

=========================================================

Track 10: Falling Apart

I’ve got no legs

Fuck the shadows are in me too

These thoughts they won’t leave my head

Wait.... Why are my legs on the other side of the room

I was your everything

You were the one last thing I’d ever think of doing anything wrong to

Yet you’re right next to me with blood and blades all around you

I was yours and you were my one true love

And now arms are stuffed with lace

And my you’re chewing on one of my eyes

My tongue is stapled to my nose

And my legs, oh god, you’re eating my toes

I was yours and I guess now I’m yours

Why did you cut me into this

We were best friends

And now I’m just meat

-------------

Oh, hey, good morning!

=========================================================

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todaynewsstories · 5 years

Text

Cuban ballet star Carlos Acosta stars in own biopic

HAVANA (Reuters) – For Carlos Acosta, the son of a black truck driver in Communist-run Cuba, overcoming poverty, prejudice and politics to become a global ballet legend, write a best-selling memoir and create his own dance company was not enough.

Cuban dancer Carlos Acosta gives an interview as he attends the film premiere for “Yuli”, a biopic about his life, during Havana’s International Film Festival in Havana, Cuba, December 7, 2018. Picture taken December 7, 2018. REUTERS/Stringer

The 45-year-old, who won fame as a teen for his athleticism and virtuosity, this week presented a movie about his rags-to-riches life at Havana’s annual film fest that moved audiences to laugh, weep and thunderously applaud.

“This is a Cuban story, so it’s not my story only,” Acosta said in an interview with Reuters.

“Yuli” uniquely blends a fictionalized account of Acosta’s life based on his memoir “No Way Home” with archive footage of the news and him dancing, and original choreographies representing chapters of his past.

The 45-year old, who retired from the Royal Ballet in 2015, features in a meta-role as himself directing his company Acosta Danza to dance those choreographies in a Havana theater.

The movie, scripted by Briton Paul Laverty and directed by Spaniard Iciar Bollain, received five nominations for the Spanish “Goya” awards on Wednesday.

Political at times, “Yuli” reflects the universal suffering of Cuban families divided by exile and struggling to get by when the country went through a deep economic crisis following the fall of former ally the Soviet Union.

The movie, which had its international premiere at the San Sebastian film festival in September, evokes how hard it could be for artists like Acosta to get Cuban government permission to work abroad, often key to them being able to forge a career.

But “Yuli” also celebrates the Cuban education system that provided free ballet training to the descendent of slaves from a rundown neighborhood and features a choreography blasting U.S. imperialism.

The film’s emotional core is Acosta’s complex relationship with his late father who – unusually given his macho, humble milieu – sent him to ballet school to keep him out of trouble.

Acosta’s father, who nicknamed his wayward son “Yuli” for a warrior god, then intuited he could be a great dancer and pushed him to “follow his star. But as a child, Acosta wanted to be a footballer and not, as he remonstrates in the film, a “faggot” in tights.

The film also evokes racism in Cuba and abroad. Acosta’s fair-skinned mother’s family rejects him because of his skin color, which also heightens his self-doubt when he seeks to break into the white world of international ballet.

Acosta said he hoped his story of success would inspire hope in an oftentimes dark world.

His autobiography “No Way Home” was published in 2007 in Europe but is still not available yet in Cuba; critics say that is because it includes passages deemed unflattering to the matriarch of Cuban ballet, Alicia Alonso.

Cuban dancer Carlos Acosta attends the film premiere for “Yuli”, a biopic about his life, during Havana’s International Film Festival in Havana, Cuba, December 7, 2018. Picture taken December 7, 2018. REUTERS/Stringer

Acosta said he hoped the movie would prompt authorities to distribute copies of the book now in storage.

He joined in a chorus of criticism of a decree that took effect last Friday in Cuba, which many artists fear will result in censorship. [nL1N1YD016]

“Artists should be consulted to come up with things like that,” he said. “We should be careful because we all know without art is no country.”

Reporting by Sarah Marsh; editing by Jonathan Oatis

Our Standards:The Thomson Reuters Trust Principles.

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kidsviral-blog · 6 years

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Gamers gunning for David Axelrod over objection to violent TV spot

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/gamers-gunning-for-david-axelrod-over-objection-to-violent-tv-spot/

Gamers gunning for David Axelrod over objection to violent TV spot

http://twitter.com/#!/davidaxelrod/status/280552289360560128

As the first scraps of information about the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooter — many of them incorrect — began to emerge online Friday afternoon, video game enthusiasts were dismayed to see headlines identifying Adam Lanza as an avid gamer.

Many found a violent, gun-filled ad for the film “Gangster Squad” broadcast during Sunday’s Colts-Texans game in poor taste, and former Obama senior advisor David Axelrod was similarly troubled by a post-game spot for the M-rated video game, “Hitman: Absolution.” Gamers were about as happy to be linked to gun violence as responsible gun owners are, and they let Axelrod know it, sometimes in violent terms.

@davidaxelrod shouldn’t you SHUT THE FUCK UP! You want an outlet of blame so you point to games rather than the government, the true source.

— Brian Maldonado (@Brizzy_Bear) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Take a big step back and literally fuck your own face.

— Paul Haffely (@Nogib) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod you’re a dumb fuck. Video games have nothing to do with it. You should spend some time with Sandusky, faggot bitch

— Povich, Maury (@bootysweaat) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Maybe try passing some gun control legislation you coward, oh and kindly STFU.

— Mitch Lake (@mlake9) December 17, 2012

Evil happens and you FUCKS want to control EVERYTHING. DONT you? Pathetic. DISGUSTING. @davidaxelrod

— Harry(@Tark31) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod I thought you were a smart man, but I guess not. Video games don’t make people do violent things you idiot.

— Berny Marcus (@Ratchetfan3) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod How about we worry about violent people in general, and not focus on VIDEO GAMES and other cheap, useless scapegoats, hmmm?

— DragonRift (@DragonRift) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod sorry you’re way off base..whats next ban ads for violet movies & TV? its BS & not something I’d expect from an educated man

— Sean Good (@goodbar_ca) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod shouldn’t we also come the the realization that a sprite on the screen is not a human being? Go blame something else.

— addicted to youtube (@adicted2youtube) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod excuse me but doesn’t the government you work for kill innocent people for oil with the excuse of terrorism? Hypocrite…

— Renzo Lazarte (@Renoxzor) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Would a game involving the death or foreign children via Drone Attack be more to your liking?

— Rob Penco (@pencotron) December 17, 2012

@jaketapper @davidaxelrod Seems pretty stupid to think the average person sees a commercial, or plays a video game, then murders people

— Jeff Hardacker (@hardacker) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod BLAMING VIDEO GAMES IS A COP OUT. They also have Call of Duty in Australia and GB. THINK!

— David Lovekamp (@D_Love) December 17, 2012

Hey, Occupods! Your heroes at Team Obama are coming for your videogames!MT @davidaxelrodShouldn’t we quit marketing murder as a game?

— Michael Graham (@MGraham969) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Please opine on banning violent football games. Battered wives all over America are waiting with bated breath.

— Jim Law (@jimrl) December 17, 2012

You heard @davidaxelrod, gamers.You’re next!

— David Hines (@hradzka) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod the O campaign had no problem taking money from Hollywood and others that glorify the murder culture.

— Jonathan (@3ftswell) December 17, 2012

@pegobry @davidaxelrod I saw an ad for “Django Unchained” that was full of guns too. Let’s outlaw movie violence in the same bill! #idiots

— paul rinkes (@pr9000) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Thanks mom but I’d rather decide for myself.

— Josh N (@fitdabattle) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod I blame chess as the origin for violence in society. Regicide isn’t cool, kids.

— Free Radical (@Free_Radical1) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod violent video games dont make school shootings. Lieberman was wrong after columbine and you and @arifleisher are wrong now

— Sam Barrows (@barrows350) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Bullshit. Gun control too hard? Too much easy access to mental health services doesn’t sound as sexy?

— Matt (@MattPalm) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod you do realize, your future seal team sixers are the ones playing those games, along with your Drone pilots. Think about it

— TahoeNeely (@TahoeNeely) December 17, 2012

Axelrod wasn’t completely alone in his opinion. Will a closer look at violent video games become part of the nation’s “conversation” on guns?

@davidaxelrod 100% agree. For the sick/evil, they see life as their shoot ‘em up game. The violence exposed in the games HAS to contribute

— Sam (@sgoeb) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod I agree.These games r hypnotic.The right trigger 4 an unstable person could easily cause events like recent mass shootings!

— harriet mathieu(@mamarocks54) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Probably the only thing I’ll ever agree with you on.

— DC Dude (D) (@DCDude1776) December 17, 2012

@davidaxelrod Agree! Makes me cringe watching sports with my 4 yr old.

— Josh Kaplan (@joshdkap) December 17, 2012

Those old enough to remember the efforts of the PMRC in the 1980s couldn’t help but be reminded of a certain former second lady.

@davidaxelrod amen! We mock God when we trivialize the gift of life He gave to us!!Tipper was right!

— Dianna Wentz (@DiannaWentz) December 17, 2012

You’re a little off, Tipper. MT @davidaxelrod In NFL post-game an ad for shoot ‘em up game. Shouldn’t we quit marketing murder as a game?

— Ryan (@RTMcNeely) December 17, 2012

Here’s a TV spot for the game.

@davidaxelrod Must be a popular game in Chicago

— scott (@bakerinCA) December 18, 2012

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/12/17/gamers-gunning-for-david-axelrod-over-objection-to-violent-hitman-absolution-tv-spot/

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