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2024.05.16 05:06 MirkWorks Excerpt from The Culture of Narcissism by Christopher Lasch (Changing Modes of Making It: From Horatio Alger to the Happy Hooker)
III. Changing Modes of Making It: From Horatio Alger to the Happy Hooker
…
From “Self-Culture” to Self-Promotion through “Winning Images”
In the nineteenth century, the ideal of self-improvement degenerated into a cult of compulsive industry. P.T. Barnum, who made a fortune in a calling the very nature of which the Puritans would have condemned (“Every calling, whereby God will be Dishonored; every Calling whereby none but the Lusts of men are Nourished: …every such Calling is to be Rejected”), delivered many times a lecture frankly entitled “The Art of Money-Getting,” which epitomized the nineteenth-century conception of worldly success. Barnum quoted freely from Franklin but without Franklin’s concern for the attainment of wisdom or the promotion of useful knowledge. “Information” interested Barnum merely as a means of mastering the market. Thus he condemned the “false economy” of the farm wife who douses her candle at dusk rather than lighting another for reading, not realizing that the “information” gained through reading is worth far more than the price of the candles. “Always take a trustworthy newspaper,” Barnum advised young men on the make, “and thus keep thoroughly posted in regard to the transactions of the world. He who is without a newspaper is cut off from his species.”
Barnum valued the good opinion of others not as a sign of one’s usefulness but as a means of getting credit. “Uncompromising integrity of character is invaluable.” The nineteenth century attempted to express all values in monetary terms. Everything had its price. Charity was a moral duty because “the liberal man will command patronage, which the sordid, uncharitable miser will be avoided.” The sin of pride was not that it offended God but that it led to extravagant expenditures. “A spirit of pride and vanity, when permitted to have full sway, is the undying cankerworm which gnaws the very vitals of a man’s worldly possessions.”
The eighteenth century made a virtue of temperance but did not condemn moderate indulgence in the service of sociability. “Rational conversation,” on the contrary, appeared to Franklin and his contemporaries to represent an important value in its own right. The nineteenth century condemned sociability itself, on the grounds that it might interfere with business. “How many good opportunities have passed, never to return, while a man was sipping a ‘social glass’ with his friends!” Preachments on self-help now breathed the spirit of compulsive enterprise. Henry Ward Beecher defined “the beau ideal of happiness” as a state of mind in which “a man [is] so busy that he does not know whether he is or is not happy.” Russell Sage remarked that “work has been the chied, and you might say, the only source of pleasure in my life.”
Even at the height of the Gilded Age, however, the Protestant ethic did not completely lose its original meaning. In the success manuals, the McGuffey readers, the Peter Parley Books, and the hortatory writings of the great capitalists themselves, the Protestant virtues - industry, thrift, temperance - still appeared not merely as stepping-stones to success but as their own reward.
The spirit of self-improvement lived on, in debased form, in the cult of “self-culture” - proper care and training of mind and body, nurture of the mind through “great books,” development of “character.” The social contribution of individual accumulation still survived as an undercurrent in the celebration of success, and the social conditions of early industrial capitalism, in which the pursuit of wealth undeniably increased the supply of useful objects, gave some substance to the claim that “accumulated capital means progress.” In condemning speculation and extravagance, in upholding the importance of patient industry, in urging young men to start at the bottom and submit to “the discipline of daily life,” even the most unabashed exponents of self-enrichment clung to the notion that wealth derives its value from its contribution to the general good and to the happiness of future generations.
The nineteenth-century cult of success placed surprisingly little emphasis on competition. It measured achievement not against the achievements of others but against an abstract ideal of discipline and self-denial. At the turn of the century, however, preachments on success began to stress the will to win. The bureaucratization of the corporate career changed the conditions of self-advancement; ambitious young men now had to compete with their peers for the attention and approval of their superiors. The struggle to surpass the previous generation and to provide for the next gave way to a form of sibling rivalry, in which men of approximately equal abilities jostled against each other in competition for a limited number of places. Advancement now depended on “will-power, self-confidence, energy, and initiative” - the qualities celebrated in such exemplary writings as George Lorimer’s Letters from a Self-Made Merchant to His Son. ” By the end of the nineteenth century,” writes John Cawelti in his study of the success myth, “self-help books were dominated by the ethos of sales-manship and boosterism. Personal magnetism, a quality which supposedly enabled a man to influence and dominate others, became one of the major keys to success.” In 1907, both Lorimer’s Saturday Evening Post and Orison Swett Marden’s Success magazine inaugurated departments of instruction in the “art of conversation,” fashion, and “culture.” The management of interpersonal relations came to be seen as the essence of self-advancement. The captain of industry gave way to the confidence man, the master of impressions. Young men were told that they had to sell themselves in order to succeed.
At first, self-testing through competition remained almost in-distinguishable from moral self-discipline and self-culture, but the difference became unmistakable when Dale Carnegie and then Norman Vincent Peale restated and transformed the tradition of Mather, Franklin, Barnum, and Lorimer. As a formula for success, winning friends and influencing people had little in common with industry and thrift. The prophets of positive thinking disparaged “the old adage that hard work alone is the magic key that will unlock the door to our desires.” They praised the love of money, officially condemned even by the crudest of Gilded Age materialists, as a useful incentive. “You can never have riches in great quantities,” wrote Napoleon Hill in this Think and Grow Rich,” unless you can work yourself into a white heat of desire for money.” The pursuit of wealth lost the few shreds of moral meaning that still clung to it. Formerly the Protestant virtues appeared to have an independent value of their own. Even when they became purely instrumental, in the second half of the nineteenth century, success itself retained moral and social overtones, by virtue of its contribution to the sum of human comfort and progress. Now success appeared as an end in its own right, the victory over your competitors that alone retained the capacity to instill a sense of self-approval. The latest success manuals differ from earlier ones - even surpassing the cynicism of Dale Carnegie and Peale - in their frank acceptance of the need to exploit and intimidate others, in their lack of interest in the substance of success, and in the candor with which they insist that appearances - “winning images - count for more than performance, ascription for more than achievement. One author seems to imply that the self consists of little more than its “image” reflected in others’ eyes. “Although I’m not being original when I say it, I’m sure you’ll agree that the way you see yourself will reflect the image you portray to others.” Nothing succeeds like the appearance of success.
<The American Religion by Harold Bloom (California Orphism)>
The Apotheosis of Individualism
The fear that haunted the social critics and theorists of the fifties - that rugged individualism had succumbed to conformity and “love-pressure sociability” - appears in retrospect to have been premature. In 1960, David Riesman complained that young people no longer had much social “presence,” their education having provided them not with “a polished personality but [with] an affable, casual, adaptable one, suitable to the losing organizations of an affluent society.” It is true that “a present-oriented hedonism,” as Riseman went on the argue, has replaced the work ethic “among the very classes which in the earlier stages of industrialization were oriented toward the future, toward distant goals and delayed gratification.” But this hedonism is a fraud; the pursuit of pleasure disguises a struggle for power. Americans have not really become more sociable and cooperative, as the theorists of other-direction and conformity would like us to believe; they have merely become more adept at exploiting the conventions of interpersonal relations for their own benefit. Activities ostensibly undertaken purely for enjoyment often have the real object of doing others in. It is symptomatic of the underlying tenor of American life that vulgar terms for sexual intercourse also convey the sense of getting the better of someone, working him over, taking him in, imposing your will through guile, deception, or superior force. Verbs associated with sexual pleasure have acquired more than the usual overtones of violence and psychic exploitation. In the violent world of the ghetto, the language of which now pervades American society as a whole, the violence associated with sexual intercourse is directed with special intensity by men against women, specifically against their mothers. The language of ritualized aggression and abuse reminds those who use it that exploitation is the general rule and some form of dependence the common fate, that “the individual,” in Lee Rainwater’s words, “is not strong enough or adult enough to achieve his goal in a legitimate way, but is rather like a child, dependent on others who tolerate his childish maneuvers”; accordingly males, even adult males, often depend on women for support and nurture. Many of them have to pimp for a living, ingratiating themselves with a woman in order to pry money from her; sexual relations thus become manipulative and predatory. Satisfaction depends on taking what you want instead of waiting for what is rightfully yours to receive. All this enters everyday speech in language that connects sex with aggression and sexual aggression with highly ambivalent feelings about mothers.
In some ways middle-class society has become a pale copy of the black ghetto, as the appropriation of its language would lead us to believe. We do not need to minimize the poverty of the ghetto or the suffering inflicted by whites on blacks in order to see that the increasingly dangerous and unpredictable conditions of middle-class life have given rise to similar strategies for survival. Indeed the attraction of black culture for disaffected whites suggests that black culture now speaks to a general condition, the most important feature of which is a widespread loss of confidence in the future. The poor have always had to live for the present, but now a desperate concern for personal survival, sometimes disguised as hedonism, engulfs the middle class as well. Today almost everyone lives in a dangerous world from which there is little escape. International terrorism and blackmail, bombings, and hijackings arbitrarily affect the rich and poor alike. Crime, violence, and gang wars make cities unsafe and threaten to spread to the suburbs. Racial violence on the streets and in the schools creates an atmosphere of chronic tension and threatens to erupt at any time into full-scale racial conflict. Unemployment spreads from the poor the white-collar class, while inflation eats away the savings of those who hoped to retire in comfort. Much of what is euphemistically known as the middle class, merely because it dresses up to go to work, is now reduced to proletarian conditions of existence. Many white-collar jobs require no more skill and pay even less than blue-collar jobs, conferring little status or security. The propaganda of death and destruction, emanating ceaselessly from the mass media, adds to the prevailing atmosphere of insecurity. Far-flung famines, earthquakes in remote regions, distant wars and uprisings attract the same attention as events closer to home. The impression of arbitrariness in the reporting of disaster reinforces the arbitrary quality of experience itself, and the absence of continuity in the coverage of events, as today’s crisis yields to a new and unrelated crisis tomorrow, adds to the sense of historical discontinuity - the sense of living in a world in which the past holds out no guidance to the present and the future has become completely unpredictable.
Older conceptions of success presupposed a world in rapid motion, in which fortunes were rapidly won and lost and new opportunities unfolded every day. Yet they also presupposed a certain stability, a future that bore some recognizable resemblance to the present and the past. The growth of bureaucracy, the cult of consumption with its immediate gratifications, but above all the severance of the sense of historical continuity have transformed the Protestant ethic while carrying the underlying principles of capitalist society to their logical conclusion. The pursuit of self-interest, formerly identified with the rational pursuit of gain and the accumulation of wealth, has become a search for pleasure and psychic survival. Social conditions now approximate the vision of republican society conceived by the Marquis de Sade at the very outset of the republican epoch. In many ways the most farsighted and certainly the most disturbing of the prophets of revolutionary individualism, Sade defended unlimited self-indulgence as the logical culmination of the revolution in property relations - the only way to attain revolutionary brotherhood in its purest form. By regressing in his writings to the most primitive level of fantasy, Sade uncannily glimpsed the whole subsequent development of personal life under capitalism, ending not in revolutionary brotherhood but in a society of siblings that has outlived and repudiated its revolutionary origins.
Sade imagined a sexual utopia in which everyone has the right to everyone else, where human beings, reduced to their sexual organs, become absolutely anonymous and interchangeable. His ideal society thus reaffirmed the capitalist principle that human beings are ultimately reducible to interchangeable objects. It also incorporated and carried to a surprising new conclusion Hobbes’s discovery that the destruction of paternalism and the subordination of all social relations to the market had stripped away the remaining restraints and the mitigating illusions from the war of all against all. In the resulting state of organized anarchy, as Sade was the first to realize, pleasure becomes life’s only business - pleasure, however, that is indistinguishable from rape, murder, unbridled aggression. In a society that has reduced reason to mere calculation, reason can impose no limits on the pursuit of pleasure - on the immediate gratification of every desire no matter how perverse, insane, criminal, or merely immoral. For the standards that would condemn crime or cruelty derive from religion, compassion, or the kind of reason that rejects purely instrumental applications; and none of these outmoded forms of thought or feeling has any logical place in a society based on commodity production. In his misogyny, Sade perceived that bourgeois enlightenment, carried to its logical conclusions, condemned even the sentimental cult of womanhood and the family, which the bourgeoisie itself had carried to unprecedented extremes.
At the same time, he saw that condemnation of “woman-worship” had to go hand in hand with a defense of woman’s sexual rights - their right to dispose of their own bodies, as feminists would put it today. If the exercise of that right in Sade’s utopia boils down to the duty to become an instrument of someone else’s pleasure, it was not so much because Sade hated women as because he hated humanity. He perceived, more clearly than the feminists, that all freedoms under capitalism come in the end to the same thing, the same universal obligation to enjoy and be enjoyed. In the same breath, and without violating his own logic, Sade demanded for women the right “fully to satisfy all their desires” and “all parts of their bodies” and categorically stated that “all women must submit to our pleasure.” Pure individualism thus issued in the most radical repudiation of individuality. “All men, all women resemble each other,” according to Sade; and to those of his countrymen who would become republicans he adds this ominous warning: “Do not think you can make good republicans so long as you isolated in their families the children who should belong to the republic alone.” The bourgeois defense of privacy culminates - not just in Sade’s thought but in the history to come, so accurately foreshadowed in the very excess, madness, infantilism of his ideas - in the most thoroughgoing attack on privacy; the glorification of the individual, in his annihilation.
<…>
Standing-Reserve.
Note a lack of the “Greek” in Lasch.
Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927-1939 by Georges Bataille, Edited by A. Stoekl, Translated by A. Stoekl, C.R. Lovitt, and D.M. Leslie Jr.
<…>
submitted by MirkWorks to u/MirkWorks [link] [comments]
…
From “Self-Culture” to Self-Promotion through “Winning Images”
In the nineteenth century, the ideal of self-improvement degenerated into a cult of compulsive industry. P.T. Barnum, who made a fortune in a calling the very nature of which the Puritans would have condemned (“Every calling, whereby God will be Dishonored; every Calling whereby none but the Lusts of men are Nourished: …every such Calling is to be Rejected”), delivered many times a lecture frankly entitled “The Art of Money-Getting,” which epitomized the nineteenth-century conception of worldly success. Barnum quoted freely from Franklin but without Franklin’s concern for the attainment of wisdom or the promotion of useful knowledge. “Information” interested Barnum merely as a means of mastering the market. Thus he condemned the “false economy” of the farm wife who douses her candle at dusk rather than lighting another for reading, not realizing that the “information” gained through reading is worth far more than the price of the candles. “Always take a trustworthy newspaper,” Barnum advised young men on the make, “and thus keep thoroughly posted in regard to the transactions of the world. He who is without a newspaper is cut off from his species.”
Barnum valued the good opinion of others not as a sign of one’s usefulness but as a means of getting credit. “Uncompromising integrity of character is invaluable.” The nineteenth century attempted to express all values in monetary terms. Everything had its price. Charity was a moral duty because “the liberal man will command patronage, which the sordid, uncharitable miser will be avoided.” The sin of pride was not that it offended God but that it led to extravagant expenditures. “A spirit of pride and vanity, when permitted to have full sway, is the undying cankerworm which gnaws the very vitals of a man’s worldly possessions.”
The eighteenth century made a virtue of temperance but did not condemn moderate indulgence in the service of sociability. “Rational conversation,” on the contrary, appeared to Franklin and his contemporaries to represent an important value in its own right. The nineteenth century condemned sociability itself, on the grounds that it might interfere with business. “How many good opportunities have passed, never to return, while a man was sipping a ‘social glass’ with his friends!” Preachments on self-help now breathed the spirit of compulsive enterprise. Henry Ward Beecher defined “the beau ideal of happiness” as a state of mind in which “a man [is] so busy that he does not know whether he is or is not happy.” Russell Sage remarked that “work has been the chied, and you might say, the only source of pleasure in my life.”
Even at the height of the Gilded Age, however, the Protestant ethic did not completely lose its original meaning. In the success manuals, the McGuffey readers, the Peter Parley Books, and the hortatory writings of the great capitalists themselves, the Protestant virtues - industry, thrift, temperance - still appeared not merely as stepping-stones to success but as their own reward.
The spirit of self-improvement lived on, in debased form, in the cult of “self-culture” - proper care and training of mind and body, nurture of the mind through “great books,” development of “character.” The social contribution of individual accumulation still survived as an undercurrent in the celebration of success, and the social conditions of early industrial capitalism, in which the pursuit of wealth undeniably increased the supply of useful objects, gave some substance to the claim that “accumulated capital means progress.” In condemning speculation and extravagance, in upholding the importance of patient industry, in urging young men to start at the bottom and submit to “the discipline of daily life,” even the most unabashed exponents of self-enrichment clung to the notion that wealth derives its value from its contribution to the general good and to the happiness of future generations.
The nineteenth-century cult of success placed surprisingly little emphasis on competition. It measured achievement not against the achievements of others but against an abstract ideal of discipline and self-denial. At the turn of the century, however, preachments on success began to stress the will to win. The bureaucratization of the corporate career changed the conditions of self-advancement; ambitious young men now had to compete with their peers for the attention and approval of their superiors. The struggle to surpass the previous generation and to provide for the next gave way to a form of sibling rivalry, in which men of approximately equal abilities jostled against each other in competition for a limited number of places. Advancement now depended on “will-power, self-confidence, energy, and initiative” - the qualities celebrated in such exemplary writings as George Lorimer’s Letters from a Self-Made Merchant to His Son. ” By the end of the nineteenth century,” writes John Cawelti in his study of the success myth, “self-help books were dominated by the ethos of sales-manship and boosterism. Personal magnetism, a quality which supposedly enabled a man to influence and dominate others, became one of the major keys to success.” In 1907, both Lorimer’s Saturday Evening Post and Orison Swett Marden’s Success magazine inaugurated departments of instruction in the “art of conversation,” fashion, and “culture.” The management of interpersonal relations came to be seen as the essence of self-advancement. The captain of industry gave way to the confidence man, the master of impressions. Young men were told that they had to sell themselves in order to succeed.
At first, self-testing through competition remained almost in-distinguishable from moral self-discipline and self-culture, but the difference became unmistakable when Dale Carnegie and then Norman Vincent Peale restated and transformed the tradition of Mather, Franklin, Barnum, and Lorimer. As a formula for success, winning friends and influencing people had little in common with industry and thrift. The prophets of positive thinking disparaged “the old adage that hard work alone is the magic key that will unlock the door to our desires.” They praised the love of money, officially condemned even by the crudest of Gilded Age materialists, as a useful incentive. “You can never have riches in great quantities,” wrote Napoleon Hill in this Think and Grow Rich,” unless you can work yourself into a white heat of desire for money.” The pursuit of wealth lost the few shreds of moral meaning that still clung to it. Formerly the Protestant virtues appeared to have an independent value of their own. Even when they became purely instrumental, in the second half of the nineteenth century, success itself retained moral and social overtones, by virtue of its contribution to the sum of human comfort and progress. Now success appeared as an end in its own right, the victory over your competitors that alone retained the capacity to instill a sense of self-approval. The latest success manuals differ from earlier ones - even surpassing the cynicism of Dale Carnegie and Peale - in their frank acceptance of the need to exploit and intimidate others, in their lack of interest in the substance of success, and in the candor with which they insist that appearances - “winning images - count for more than performance, ascription for more than achievement. One author seems to imply that the self consists of little more than its “image” reflected in others’ eyes. “Although I’m not being original when I say it, I’m sure you’ll agree that the way you see yourself will reflect the image you portray to others.” Nothing succeeds like the appearance of success.
<The American Religion by Harold Bloom (California Orphism)>
The Apotheosis of Individualism
The fear that haunted the social critics and theorists of the fifties - that rugged individualism had succumbed to conformity and “love-pressure sociability” - appears in retrospect to have been premature. In 1960, David Riesman complained that young people no longer had much social “presence,” their education having provided them not with “a polished personality but [with] an affable, casual, adaptable one, suitable to the losing organizations of an affluent society.” It is true that “a present-oriented hedonism,” as Riseman went on the argue, has replaced the work ethic “among the very classes which in the earlier stages of industrialization were oriented toward the future, toward distant goals and delayed gratification.” But this hedonism is a fraud; the pursuit of pleasure disguises a struggle for power. Americans have not really become more sociable and cooperative, as the theorists of other-direction and conformity would like us to believe; they have merely become more adept at exploiting the conventions of interpersonal relations for their own benefit. Activities ostensibly undertaken purely for enjoyment often have the real object of doing others in. It is symptomatic of the underlying tenor of American life that vulgar terms for sexual intercourse also convey the sense of getting the better of someone, working him over, taking him in, imposing your will through guile, deception, or superior force. Verbs associated with sexual pleasure have acquired more than the usual overtones of violence and psychic exploitation. In the violent world of the ghetto, the language of which now pervades American society as a whole, the violence associated with sexual intercourse is directed with special intensity by men against women, specifically against their mothers. The language of ritualized aggression and abuse reminds those who use it that exploitation is the general rule and some form of dependence the common fate, that “the individual,” in Lee Rainwater’s words, “is not strong enough or adult enough to achieve his goal in a legitimate way, but is rather like a child, dependent on others who tolerate his childish maneuvers”; accordingly males, even adult males, often depend on women for support and nurture. Many of them have to pimp for a living, ingratiating themselves with a woman in order to pry money from her; sexual relations thus become manipulative and predatory. Satisfaction depends on taking what you want instead of waiting for what is rightfully yours to receive. All this enters everyday speech in language that connects sex with aggression and sexual aggression with highly ambivalent feelings about mothers.
In some ways middle-class society has become a pale copy of the black ghetto, as the appropriation of its language would lead us to believe. We do not need to minimize the poverty of the ghetto or the suffering inflicted by whites on blacks in order to see that the increasingly dangerous and unpredictable conditions of middle-class life have given rise to similar strategies for survival. Indeed the attraction of black culture for disaffected whites suggests that black culture now speaks to a general condition, the most important feature of which is a widespread loss of confidence in the future. The poor have always had to live for the present, but now a desperate concern for personal survival, sometimes disguised as hedonism, engulfs the middle class as well. Today almost everyone lives in a dangerous world from which there is little escape. International terrorism and blackmail, bombings, and hijackings arbitrarily affect the rich and poor alike. Crime, violence, and gang wars make cities unsafe and threaten to spread to the suburbs. Racial violence on the streets and in the schools creates an atmosphere of chronic tension and threatens to erupt at any time into full-scale racial conflict. Unemployment spreads from the poor the white-collar class, while inflation eats away the savings of those who hoped to retire in comfort. Much of what is euphemistically known as the middle class, merely because it dresses up to go to work, is now reduced to proletarian conditions of existence. Many white-collar jobs require no more skill and pay even less than blue-collar jobs, conferring little status or security. The propaganda of death and destruction, emanating ceaselessly from the mass media, adds to the prevailing atmosphere of insecurity. Far-flung famines, earthquakes in remote regions, distant wars and uprisings attract the same attention as events closer to home. The impression of arbitrariness in the reporting of disaster reinforces the arbitrary quality of experience itself, and the absence of continuity in the coverage of events, as today’s crisis yields to a new and unrelated crisis tomorrow, adds to the sense of historical discontinuity - the sense of living in a world in which the past holds out no guidance to the present and the future has become completely unpredictable.
Older conceptions of success presupposed a world in rapid motion, in which fortunes were rapidly won and lost and new opportunities unfolded every day. Yet they also presupposed a certain stability, a future that bore some recognizable resemblance to the present and the past. The growth of bureaucracy, the cult of consumption with its immediate gratifications, but above all the severance of the sense of historical continuity have transformed the Protestant ethic while carrying the underlying principles of capitalist society to their logical conclusion
Sade imagined a sexual utopia in which everyone has the right to everyone else, where human beings, reduced to their sexual organs, become absolutely anonymous and interchangeable. His ideal society thus reaffirmed the capitalist principle that human beings are ultimately reducible to interchangeable objects. It also incorporated and carried to a surprising new conclusion Hobbes’s discovery that the destruction of paternalism and the subordination of all social relations to the market had stripped away the remaining restraints and the mitigating illusions from the war of all against all. In the resulting state of organized anarchy, as Sade was the first to realize, pleasure becomes life’s only business - pleasure, however, that is indistinguishable from rape, murder, unbridled aggression. In a society that has reduced reason to mere calculation, reason can impose no limits on the pursuit of pleasure - on the immediate gratification of every desire no matter how perverse, insane, criminal, or merely immoral. For the standards that would condemn crime or cruelty derive from religion, compassion, or the kind of reason that rejects purely instrumental applications; and none of these outmoded forms of thought or feeling has any logical place in a society based on commodity production. In his misogyny, Sade perceived that bourgeois enlightenment, carried to its logical conclusions, condemned even the sentimental cult of womanhood and the family, which the bourgeoisie itself had carried to unprecedented extremes.
At the same time, he saw that condemnation of “woman-worship” had to go hand in hand with a defense of woman’s sexual rights - their right to dispose of their own bodies, as feminists would put it today. If the exercise of that right in Sade’s utopia boils down to the duty to become an instrument of someone else’s pleasure, it was not so much because Sade hated women as because he hated humanity. He perceived, more clearly than the feminists, that all freedoms under capitalism come in the end to the same thing, the same universal obligation to enjoy and be enjoyed. In the same breath, and without violating his own logic, Sade demanded for women the right “fully to satisfy all their desires” and “all parts of their bodies” and categorically stated that “all women must submit to our pleasure.” Pure individualism thus issued in the most radical repudiation of individuality. “All men, all women resemble each other,” according to Sade; and to those of his countrymen who would become republicans he adds this ominous warning: “Do not think you can make good republicans so long as you isolated in their families the children who should belong to the republic alone.” The bourgeois defense of privacy culminates - not just in Sade’s thought but in the history to come, so accurately foreshadowed in the very excess, madness, infantilism of his ideas - in the most thoroughgoing attack on privacy; the glorification of the individual, in his annihilation.
<…>
Standing-Reserve.
Note a lack of the “Greek” in Lasch.
Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927-1939 by Georges Bataille, Edited by A. Stoekl, Translated by A. Stoekl, C.R. Lovitt, and D.M. Leslie Jr.
<…>
2024.05.16 02:51 Basic-Competition-24 Am I a bad teacher?
I am an private EFL teacher in Argentina. I usually provide private English classes to school students, helping them understand material. Currently I have two teenage students, that are making me question my ability to teach - making me wonder if I am a good teacher. One of them, started the year, with their mom telling me that she has been struggling with English for a while. We started the year reviewing the past simple and vocabulary. We prepared for all the midterms and she failed both. We have done everything. All the exercises you can think of, to review. There has been some improvement from one test to the other but the overall result is the same “FAILED”. I started noticing that they actually understand the content but when it comes to the exam, they get distracted and start making mistakes that they know are wrong (and they tell me so when we correct them).
The other, failed English in 2023 (has to do a make-up exam for it now) and clearly has an attitude and motivation problem. As well as attention issues (English is not the only subject she failed in 2023). We have been reviewing everything, doing specialized reviews of the content in each exam. She has gotten better at using vocabulary and verbs, as well as, formulating answers in English but she still failed 2 tests. Once again, she also realizes her mistakes when we go through the exam and knows why the answers she chose were wrong.
Both of them seem to have issues with following exercise instructions. Like when the instruction says “Simple past Tense” they’ll suddenly change into “Present tense” in the middle of the exercise. Or make mistakes when placing the correct verb form for the subject.
I don’t know what else to do to help them succeed. I keep feeling like I am a bad teacher and I keep feeling self-conscious around their parents because there are no results.
Help.
submitted by Basic-Competition-24 to Teachers [link] [comments]
The other, failed English in 2023 (has to do a make-up exam for it now) and clearly has an attitude and motivation problem. As well as attention issues (English is not the only subject she failed in 2023). We have been reviewing everything, doing specialized reviews of the content in each exam. She has gotten better at using vocabulary and verbs, as well as, formulating answers in English but she still failed 2 tests. Once again, she also realizes her mistakes when we go through the exam and knows why the answers she chose were wrong.
Both of them seem to have issues with following exercise instructions. Like when the instruction says “Simple past Tense” they’ll suddenly change into “Present tense” in the middle of the exercise. Or make mistakes when placing the correct verb form for the subject.
I don’t know what else to do to help them succeed. I keep feeling like I am a bad teacher and I keep feeling self-conscious around their parents because there are no results.
Help.
2024.05.16 01:25 DarkSabbatical I found a cursed 4 leaf clover
I found a 4 leaf clover on (5-5-24). Everyone believes it is cursed and want me to get rid of it. I am not sure if it's actually cursed though, or if it actually gives goodluck in the times of bad. The reason everyone thinks it's cursed is because the next day (5-6-24) is when the tragedies started.
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?
submitted by DarkSabbatical to self [link] [comments]
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?
2024.05.16 01:23 DarkSabbatical I found a cursed 4 leaf clover
I found a 4 leaf clover on (5-5-24). Everyone believes it is cursed and want me to get rid of it. I am not sure if it's actually cursed though, or if it actually gives goodluck in the times of bad. The reason everyone thinks it's cursed is because the next day (5-6-24) is when the tragedies started.
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?
submitted by DarkSabbatical to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?
2024.05.15 22:39 Still_Ad_4928 Of Hearts and Women Part-II (Book-Sample)
Not shared, nor my shade; but something to be weaved; just as the measure of disappointment became it's own solution. But I talked my way through things forbidden, just to find myself blind in bed with those who are dead. Clumsy, but altogether natural of course, because it's consciousness what you refer in the description, yet that's what we don't get a lot about. See your deeds the way you are seen, and then return to a restless place: and the question in-between sheets will be why. Well, I just can't motivate myself to work without hot bitches staring. And that's the truth. Sad but True
— Hearfelt comment for an instagram witch.
Del desprecio a ese descarte, no he visto muchas cosas. Así se pasa una más para las cuentas, y aquí otro más para los versos, por qué aquí no hemos sido vistos. Cuánto más querría uno, que sino lo cuentas ni mucho menos piensas: << lo de este pibe que cosa más horrible>>, haciendo eso lamentable, por qué en decirlo nadie ha mentido. ¡Es horrible! Que cara es entonces la cuenta de lo que le sale a uno vivir sin más complejos; mejor seria cobrarmelo, para así saber que de algo ha valido. Bloqueame.
— Heartfelt comment for a random supermodel-to-be.
The Spirit of Fire
Flames begone, flames in spite: their warmth I felt - so I closed my fist until I could feel the warmth of my blood in my hand. And in dreams Fire came up to me and said: who am I? And I said unto him: you are bound to my bidding, thus your name misery will be. But fire wretched as he was, got closer and asked: and who are you?
And I said unto him that the blood of David ran through my veins, as I was his heir; for the mother of God claim me from death as a son. So Fire tried me, and figured it out.
You are son of woman —said Fire unto me— but as Fire acknowledged the name, I extended my left hand, and took Fire by the neck throwing him into the gound. — You are going to lace yourself to the right hand of the beast, and you'll keep him steady, so I can cleanly take him down. And Fire stayed down, and with his forehead kissing the ground asked unto me —why would the heir of David do so to earthly man?
And I said unto Fire that the beast from the abyss had left no mother for God, so I was to leave none of his body left for his head; as I was going to make it bleed until the end of the end of times.
The Spirit of Earth
Shapeless and without body, but keen within her many numbers, Earth came up to me in dreams, and said: who am I? And posessed in spirit as I was, I said unto her, that God had made her maiden again, and that she shall become the coins that Judas never received, which were to become the due payment of man and women for the body of Christ. Then I extended my right hand, and grabbed Earth by her hair —which descended deep into the abysses of hell— and cut it short so the demons of Lilith would no longer had her gripped by her back.
You are now a woman, and I'm going to rise you from the grounds. You'll lace yourself to the left hand of the beast, and keep it steady so with one shot I can cleanly take him down.
The Spirit of Air
A dream shaped by written words, whispered down for years by the currents of this Montain, and it's requiem witnessed but by a few — the end of dreams. But from where I standed at the peak, I called upon the distant currents that went down, and asked them: who am I?
And Air came unto me as bird, which had thousands of letters for feathers, and in the tongue of dead men answered.
"Somebody who only a few will remember by strange deeds; as the burden on your back, is a past tainted by impossible dreams. You were a lunatic giving new names to folk, and folk never bothered to remember —so your name must be freak, as you died in a forgotten shack some short time ago."
And as Air said these things upon me, I called Misery —as I had dubbed Fire — and told him to get inside my shot. The burden as Air had said, became lesser as i took the shot from my quiver. And I said upon Misery; that he was to set ablaze this arrow, as I was taking down the bird of Britain, and that I would do so, so God would give the deeds of Earth some better names.
The Lord is making a bridge between the empire of strength, and the last empire of men. Now by God's grace, I'm making the tongue of free men, the tongue of Spain. You will be eventually bound to my bidding, and if not me, it will be to the one I'm preceding; for I'm giving you twenty years to attone your wrongdoing. Alas, now because of your wretchedness, my shot on earthly men won't be clean, for his left leg won't stay steady.
Your old name was apathy, now I'm calling you Cisma, which in the tongue of dead men means schism. So now by the will of God lay unto the ground and say the words you've been teached. And as the arrow blazed forward, it's bending motion pierced the veil hiding the secret ladder of men. The bird of Britain catched on Fire, and it's hollering resounded throught the ladders of the mountain until the depths of the abyss. A column of air turned into fire, then violenty erupted from the vowels of the bird, and the wild fire spread as a storm from west to east all throughout the five kingdoms of men away from its own fiery wings, with a gift of misery and a few words to say.
"The name of your woman or the name of your man, will no longer explain their purpose to a man, a woman, or God. Charred words written by thunder will now be the new ladder of men — but until then, darkness upon thee."
The House of Water
I head into the coasts, and the beautiful beaches in-between, to find the stranger who burns images in the skin of men. He is the stranger, and has adopted the body of a monster, and he is one who cannot be understood, so he went on to only go out home in stunts, for the burdens in his heart have become too great to bear. Through terrible pains he has given all he once was for an identity, and as I pick up on his past, i found familiarity in the feelings of his heart. Oh dear friend how we found looking in sadness to ourselves, after doing same but with different means, carrying into our shoulders the loneliness of this world. As you have in-skin the garments of the strange doctrine that I preach — I shall congrate you, for you truly have fought the world entire, for my doctrine is the words of those who shall defeat the world entire.
I may not have your strangeness in-body, but I have it in these words, and in the true feelings of my heart. And I say in admiration that there's no higher form of art, philosophy or religion: than those who perform the highest thing they can give a name about.
Now even within solitude, and at odds with what old dead men call God, I see you and I found strength in you, as I can see you are within me, and in that, you are within everything as it should be - as is meant in everyone who does something that touches the heart of another man. I call this the kingdom of God. Yet blind men and women will wonder how can the kingdom of God possibly be within two outcasts such as you and me.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Upong giving my regards and waiting for response, I found my way into a bench. It was a warm afternoon, and the wind carried the water of the sea. The bird of Britain came about down from the wind of north, and layed on the bench were I was sitting.
The bird asked: why hast thou become this?
And I said back to bird, scorched he was and nearing death, that it was me someone who was supposed to give names, yet for years I couldn't figure out one for myself. Then on went to being given a name, Alas all the wrong ones. Did Adan gave himself a name? - I asked the bird back. And there was no response from bird. Then I continued.
A man has the essence of his soul retained by what he is seen doing. Yet I did things nobody saw, so my soul wasn't with God but with something just as ancient, and nonetheless unknown by men in its true nature — then Satan as the better known devil, came about and pushed me into a hole. It was my own doing. Yet the things I did, I thought were seen. But nonetheless what I did was without contemplation on a posible return. Just as somebody who prints an image on their own skin. It's permanent. This is the essence of a memory in the soul of the man who's seen by others. But in the familiarity of a man who picked every irreversible decision like the Alien, I find myself feeling sympathy, for the man is still not what he has been seen doing, he shall redeem himself by what he decides to turn himself into.
Is this a way of saying that you want to get yourself a tattoo? Get a new look? - the bird mockingly asked.
And I gave the scorched bird no answer.
Then the bird said unto me: what about your career as a prophet, uh? And the things you said about returning with substance? Do you actually think this is substance?
And i considered what the Bird said, then I negated with a movement of my own head. It is not i answered, but i find the memories of me not making sense unbearable. For those mean the memories of a fool, un pendejo, an insane person, or both. And I will always try to amend what I don't do well. But now I wish for only one thing, and it is to be remembered as someone who makes sense, and who out of that sense, made good upon the world. I don't expect anything in return for what I do now, as it is merely an outlet to keep me sane while I finish editing my work. It's clear I'm too incompetent to be a competent influencer. As for once, I don't care about influencing anyone into what I think; but to perform what I think it's important.
Then every proverbial student is free to take classes so as they see fit, and to interpret such classes as their comprehension gives them grasp of what it's said. In such regard, this is what I offer now, while I make the journey to Madrid. And the bird tilted it's head so as to observe me with his left eye, then after a long impasse, it made a loud and painful caw, and finally flew away. Soon after the bird flew, I looked upon the stars in the nascent night, and confessed to them, that it was the memories of who we were, what often stumps us into wrong beliefs of who we should be, maybe even wasting an entire lifetime retained by that which other people remembered us as being. But we are not the owners of our own names, the place we go, and our destiny. That's the biggest lie the western world of hollywood heros tell you, as in truth is collective agreement what determines what we look like doing and thus the meaning we should comfort to, recalling that names are practical mechanisms to remember the purpose of things, their meaning, and how their motion is described in the world.
But making the task of beating that collective belief, akin to the Nietzschean ideal of the camel turning into the lion, so as to transform it's spirit and become something else. But if it's the golden dragon of all the huamn values which judges you insane, will you be prepared to wrestle with the entire culture so as to have your way?
As I layed my eyes upon each star counting up to the number seventeen, I confessed of being scared of those beliefs, as revisiting the past, became a painful deed — and as I prepared to leave, I uttered one wish on the seventeenth point in the sky.
Lord please grant me strength, the way you have given my friend strenght.
2.
The night deepen, while the sea tide sang its own song of breathing. Some time passed, and then on the stranger showed himself approaching at the distance. I waved my hand at him, and after the instant, he found his way into my bench while I welcomed him with an extended fist which he casually bumped - after the short acknowledgement the dark alien looked at my face in between it's cover of dark, and looking at it undiscernable in its true features, with suspicion asked.
— What is it that you want?
I acknowledged him as a friend, then mentioned my brief research, as I had come to know him as man looking for a job, yet nobody would hire for things mundane due to his appearance. I listened closely to the news, and came to understand that this was a man looking for a second chance.Then I saw the intent behind his doing, and two words came to stick to my own thoughts. The first one was <> and the second one was <>. I was admired.
In analytical psychology I figured this man was the ESFP —the personality archetype related to the performer and the entertainer—, possessed in an abnormal way by the spirit by which a person submits to it's contrary nature, seeking to integrate and find fulfillment through the chase of what's perceived absent. If he was the ESFP then doing the flip by following the radial axis of each Jungian function in the stack towards their opposite resulted in the INTJ. The mastermind. The architect. The genius yet awfully complex individual. That was the elusive spirit he was chasing.
But a spirit and a character that at its most pronounced embodiment in a person, would experience life as an eternal foreigner hiding from the light of other men. Such made sense to me, for I myself was the INTJ, and had at spirit the ESFP. Him. So where as this man chased the spiritual fulfillment of being a complex and deep individual, I chased the fulfillment of becoming simpler, so I could demonstrate with action the deepest desires of my heart. One who was born plentiful in means to be liked, becomes complex, mysterious and uncomprehended, meeting one who will be seen trying to make sense becoming simpler. For Carl Jung portrayed the anima and animus of individuals, as the sense of what its absent, yet deeply cherished an valued. So I said these things to the alien, while he silently listened to me.
— All of that sounds like bullshit to me. -Said the alien after some contemplation .— Sorry but the things you say, don't mean anything to me.
And alas for I expected such response, as if one thing was true about this journey, was that explaining the journey in and of itself would become it's grimmest task. I affirmated what he just said with a slight nod of head.
— These things I say and how they relate to each other, in its excercise are similar to doing stecheometric balance with equations in the head, but simpler I'm afraid. - Then I paused, looked back into the sea, and continued. — That's high school chemistry, but I don't expect everybody to pick up on it, nor like it, nor understand it.
— Now i have called you a friend, and where I came from we dub with this title the people we share destiny with. As far as I'm concerned, we are chasing the same thing, which is the hardest posible thing. We both innately understand that we are not home, as we want our spirit to return to us, and that's not what a lot of people ever honestly try to attempt in a lifetime; as such is anyone's call to feel complete.
— And very few people ever reach true individuality, beyond the name they are imposed at birth.
Then I looked into the black alien, and in-between his foreign facial features, I interpreted something familiar. Disturbance. And I continued.
— We have given ourselves hell as we lived chasing something hard, so we can avoid the same hell later on when we are finally back to our own house. This is a christian precept, altought a rundimentary one. Does that makes sense to you?
And after listening such, the black alien calmly looked at the veil in my face in silence. Trying to discern what my face actually looked like, but the night was dark. Then turned his stare back to the reflection of the moon over the waters, giving some thought to what I just said. I opened up my backpack, and drawed two cans of beer from it. Offered one to him, and he silently refused with a gesture of hand. I popped my can and gave it a sip, while I myself stared at the tides coming in and out of the shore.
— If you wan't a tattoo, we can work that out. But this sounds annoyingly familiar, and my interest is not religious. Are you religious?
I nodded in affirmation, and complemented saying. — But my doctrine is something nobody has heard nor seen. For its aim, is doing as Christ said, in perfect means. Yet its true that the teaching fits you, as it's the teaching of the future man; and there's nothing in common between the current man and the future man, as they may very well be different species. This is the precept of evolution.
The alien seemed surprised.
— These two men don't know each other, for the current man doesn't know where the future man comes from, for he himself doesn't know where he is going. Yet in deep realization of your own artistic concept, I think you might want new ideas to meet with your appearance. So tell me, are you curious about what truly happens to a man after he dies? Do you want to learn how to read someone's mind? Do you want to blast with words of fire the hearts of an amazed crowd?
But the black alien broke his calm contemplation of what I was saying, and slighty disturbed, aggressively rebuked after hearing such.
— But you mentioned 'Christ', so you must be christian. How can a christian even say anything interesting in this current time? Last time I asked, their sayings were dreaded by restriction - so why would anyone condemn themselves to a life of bore? Are you a christian?
And I nodded after the question, in silence. Admittedly, for I knew what the problem was with being what I was, and my new companion was bang on identifying it. Made a pause, then raised my sight to where it met with the sky and the stars in it, and I said back to him.
— I am, but not one of a type you have ever seen, for the Christ that comes, is a Christ of art.
2.
The riptide sang, in its secret dialect of earth and sea. I looked upon the coast, turned an eye blind, and saw the ocean as the scorpio, and the land as the taurus; as it was the struggle between two lovers, never meant to consume each other. Ideal love then - yet not to confuse with this partnership as it was whimsilcally tied by the means in which i arranged my current conversation; for my lady somewhere waited for me. Then i allowed my eyes to rest still.
The alien looked upon me, undiscernable in my intentions, and again figured for himself that my interest towards him wasn’t clear. In suspicion, and after the moment he collected his thoughts asked “In your weird words you dubbed me performer, so what is it exactly that you wan’t from me. To me it seems like you are gathering people for some form of religious clown show. When you forced this meeting upon me, was this a proposal you thought i would find amusement in?”. And after the statement my own stare wandered in my conversation partner. While as he had his say, i returned to my can of beer, and finished it with a long gulp. Tempered in an unwillingness to fall to my new found friend irritation, i said within my own thoughts: “The alien looks easy going, but he is barbed in wit”.
Then i opened the can of beer that the stranger rejected; the loud pop resounded in the relative silence, interrupting for a moment the steady chorus of the sea. Gave it a long sip, and said.
– Theres no proposal in place yet. But im certain of something, and that is that both of us are messed individuals which reached the bottom doing the same thing - but the way my understandment of the human soul goes: two people can act by mere interaction as reactives to each other, creating a new chemical compound after the fact.
– This new psychology is very much like chemistry. But it is not my intention to draw you into something, but to pull myself out of this «something» by doing right on another person and maybe that person reflecting the good back on me. I just need a conversation partner, thats all. And i will do this with you, and with many people more. Presidents included.
The alien reflected on it, and after the hiatus of a long standing position of suspicion he finally gave in, and eased up with a slight smile. A strange smile of relief. But the smile, was all too familiar for me, as i realized the man was a tortured individual: a person in long standing pain. I smiled back the way he did, and continued.
– Our pain has a common name, and is a name that can be written with words unfortunately. It’s the devilish mother of all spiritual ills and its foundation, rests at the concept of a past that wasnt solved. It’s called «inadequeacy», and for people like you and me, understanding one day that such inadecuacy had to be solved by our own means, lead us into an act where our name changed as the changes in our cover up act to solve our inadequacy did.
– We never honored the past or the present in our pursuit, as we desired in passion to find solution to the present, by matching it into the idealization of some future without ever realizing that the old or present essence of ones being would be crushed into non existance by said future.
– Then we found the realization of that new name, only to understand that its demands became a tyranny on the other faces of our soul: as our soul is not something that can be undestood in unity, but something that conceives in the beginning in multiple things which try to give shape to one thing. Theres many people in a village, and our minds, are no exception.
— But happiness is only achieved by those who have their soul entire - or those who are the same person regardless of the context and scenario. And we gave to much to somebody that wasn't us, as our spirit took possession and lead us down.
– This is this the essence by which someone goes to hell, only to do one thing over again, getting an ever lasting pain for all the things that were given up chasing that which was absent. The more someone is forced into being shaped by the thing that was concevied in lust, the more the individual misses the place they used to call home, for that is no longer within ones reach. Does this makes sense to you?
The alien left me with no answer, and as he contemplated the sea, a tear travelled through his strange face.
– In this state of anguish, affliction rarely ever feels company, as the very individual condition that was pursued, became a full suit and persona to be forced upon and wear. Hell, is one lonely place man because we only learn to speak a language, that only makes sense to ourselves. But i think we can find a way out of it. This is why I'm here.
“Look, what you’ve done, it’s not something i can see the way you can see my own doing on me.” The alien replied. “Besides the way in which i canno’t see your face in this night, you seem ordinary — but what you talk and the way you say it, evokes in every word regret. What is it that you’ve done that has you regret like this?”
As the alien finished speaking, I emptied the can of beer, layed my eyes on the irregular grooves that my feet had left on the sand, and then replied back to him, after making a recap of the story i had repeatedly told myself after falling down.
“My story, is the fairy tale of a guy who makes way for the new coming of a new man; a better man for the world, while he casts disarray upon the earth: much to his dismay, at the expense of his own soul as the people who become victims of disasters, were ones who this man deemed unfair; cruel, evil, despicable in past. That was at the beginning."
"Theres a pile of corpses behind that character — even in covid time, people as close as the local priest of the small town he lived in, would break their neck after falling in the shower, as he had the slightest suspicion of their secret deeds. All clean deads for that matter. Untraceable to nothing but sheer randomness. Magic as it seeems. But were this folk truly evil people or even guilty of anything? You may ask - the man never knew it for sure, as he never had faculties such as godly omniscience to actually know it; which has taken a toll on him, as the burden of justice is an unberable one for anything but a god."
"Which leads to another point: spontaneously picturing random numbers in the head, associating them with psychological compounds by angular momentum, and actually being bang on the suspicion. Truth friend, in its stochastic presentation: it's unberable.”
“Consequential of such attempts to rationalize his own story in the eyes of people such as close family, my dude became clinically diagnosed with referenced thinking. Which are fancy words for schizophrenia. Nobody believed the story as it was uttered."
"Yet the consequences are there for everyone to see, altought not visible in their cause and effect by anybody but this guy, which lead him first into regret over ever starting his quest as a reformer; and then repent.”
“Now before he realized of this lets call it «curse», he preached for years over the internet as the disasters started to slowly creep up. He preached in a fashion parallel to Niestzches Zarathustra; Zarathustra meaning a famous philosophical device artificied by the philosopher Niestzche, who’s aim was to portray the best posible man, as something he dubbed the <<Übermensch>> ”.
“Such concept being the seemingly more elegant brand of a humanist ideal for a not so distant future: today - albeit a wrong one, for this guy was not dyonisian himself. The backbone of his framework, is analytical psycholgy becoming a chariot for a true understandment of human nature: and ultimately a facilitator for love within light: not within ignorance; not within darkness. Most philosophers today though would mock anything analytical in it's aim."
"Then on the guy preached and dwelved further into the relative hole of his own doctrine: and became imprisoned by what he didn’t got right at first attempt, making him in the process the character that Nietzsche from the comfort of his own writers seat, never attempted to actually embody within realistic means: eventually figuring out within himself the ultimate Nietzschean aristocrat: a magic pen granted by being capetian by mother: from judah by father."
"But Alas, you have no idea how common suicide is within philosophers after they finish their best work. As language, becomes the ultimate barrier for understandment, and then to ones capacity to feel love. Difference — true saliency in ones individual destiny— leads to the gravest posible pain. Ironic isn’t it?”
“Besides technical work with a new form of psychology inspired by analytical chemistry, as that drawed from his efforts during the light of day, five years ago, once he felt the urge to try to reach out to the world from a position of what he deemed was greater understandment: he primitively preached during night his new set of ideas for people to behave beyond the limitations of manipulative psychology, albeit a harsh doctrine meant to clear the way for a better product: Christ himself."
"This is not a doctrine a human being can actually perform, as such its christianity at its highest capacity to bear fruit. It’s an impossible doctrine, yet solves the oldest problem posed in the bible. All which sounds very sci-fi bullshit-y but actual problems started for the protagonist in this tale, when the preaching matched with terrible consequences. Not figurative, but within tangible reality.”
“So just as we talk, theres a small legion of hackers pretending to be doing internet social experiments while talking in an artsy matter: much in my own style, entertaining the exact same concepts - a legion of dangerous monkeys, i have no control over."
"One of the many unexpected consequences being this, yet prompted by something evil; ancient: essentially replicating what my protagonist developed and then preached over the years, while these "hacktivists" lay their attention on things and people, as they select them and enforce upon them strict surveillance, to behave properly. Then to destroy them, as they did in 2020 with many corporations and institutions.A bizarre combination of theater actors to my own liking, and then cyber-security demigods: omniscient in their claims to surveill, and they are - derivative such of another device of what I've done; which is to build a theater so people can make-believe that they are infact performing within themselves something greater - but that's matter for another story."
“Most of the corpses piling up flat out dead, have no relation to him whatsoever; they became victims as my protagonist took measures to fight back the monster he found at the foundation of the known world. This is not an elaborate analogy for one's own unseen capacity for evil, as i mean this: a monster as literally as it can be. For these things friend, im doomed as in true strenght, i have nothing but the pen i use to write down what i think albeit always at danger of it’s eventual inversion. I have no real friends left. Not one who can understand, or help bear the pain: as friendship and love are all gated by understandment."
"The full story has many more vertients, but i think i’ve done it enough justice. This is the predicament of an insane man chased by his own shadow as he builds a better man: one who delivers heavenly things, and then a shadow stringed to deliver tyranny as the very strings behind him make the better man stumble while he tries to keep a grasp of his own spirit, and then of his own soul."
"That monster behind, is wicked smart — and cannot be outwitted nor overpowered but anything but divine smite."
“I’m heading now to a new country, to try to get friends from the only institution in the world who knows and adresses the current times being, and who by extension, might believe me. And to clarify, these being the end of times; but not the end of the world. Yet now i myself have a damocles sword pending over my own head, and i need to do something about it before it falls.”
And as i said these things, i reached out to my backpack drawing a third can of beer from it — besides my own super laptop, thats what my backpack had: an infinite supply of beer. Corona, Indio, Victoria, Dos Equis, Heineken; you name it. I popped the can, and gave it a long and definite sip as i emptied it complete.
The alien didn't try to show that he understood, but stood still in silence, with his sight in the sand below and pressing lips, knowing by my demeanor; that these things as I've said them was something that I needed to do. Then he said: "I don't follow man. You say you preach and then disasters occur. Like a prophet from the bible?"
"Yes. Then I preached to get rid of the things that are actually making the world worse, and something awoke soon after, and since then; everything I do is subject to being misinterpreted due to the diffamatory action of this thing. Now everytime I do something, it can be twisted and turned against my original intent. Right now the hackers are my worst problem: I may have a degree in computers but I have no fucking idea whatsoever of hacking. I earn my living as an A.I engineer.".
The alien raised his sight to meet with mine, and after doing some contemplation on the fact, quite simply said: "You are insane". Then lowered his own sight, and raised it again to meet with the sea and continued. "If you want a tattoo, we can work that out. But either way and whatever parts of your story are true and even worse; the ones you may be lying about: you sound dangerous in a delusional kind of sense, and my life is hard enough as is."
I pressed my fists, knowing then the old same thing had happened again. For I had never forced anything upon anybody, and I was willing to respect that until the bitter end. Then I released the build up of frustration with a loud sigh, and after this amend, I replied back.
"I understand and respect it. But let me just propose you that if you ever want to figure what is beyond life as it's lived by person who has never seen what is like to be someone you write a great story about; you can pin me, and I'll show you what's beyond that door. Give it some thought."
The alien; The Black Alien Project stayed there sitting, spechless but calm, almost expecting something else to be convinced about. But pointless, for i knew that nobody can be forced into anything without bringing a transgression into play – and i wasn’t one to taint myself in sin if it could be avoided. Not anymore.
3.
I made the distance at steady pace walking along the shore, until i found a small group of pines in-between the liminal space of the beach and the land. I sat with one of the pines trunk behind my back, and drawed the Schizo Pills from my eternal supply of traveller goodies.
Quetiapine 100 mg, and Olanzapine 10 mg, i made a smaller fragment from the olanzapine pill, and swallowed both complete. As their side effects were concerned, they would soon knock me out of conscience, as this little ritual was my own way of calling the day complete – then i layed there, vigilant, waiting for my own drowsiness to claim me into sleep - but the Bird of Britan came flying from above, and stood besides me.
\Chirp, Chirp, Chirp**
I watched the bird, annoyed, as its presence had become an omen for contempt. For me and the death people of my past. I frowned upon the little shit, and said nothing. The bird made a little nod, while tilting its head in excentricity the way birds do, and replied. — Hey Andrew!, do you remember when you tried to penetrate your own computer to make a universe grow inside of it? I just wan’t to know something: did your computer moan? Did it finally learnt how to scream your name?
\Chirp Chirp**
Ignoring the bird, i closed my eyes and stayed like that for a long moment, hoping to make the bird think i was asleep. Maybe that would make him leave.
— Can’t bullshit me like that Sweetheart. So please tell me something; why don’t you command one of your supermodels; these muses, to come here and warm the bed for you. It's a cold night and you seem lonely brah
. \Chirp Chirp**
I opened my eyes, and irritated, pointed menacingly at the bird turning my left hand into an imaginary gun. I had already failed at something today, and wasn’t convinced i needed the memory of the things i failed at before. Not now.
Said nothing.
"No longer care for love unless it's between good friends”. Said to myself. There was certainly a migraine coming, but maybe my dreams would help convince it otherwise. And as far as the hoes were concerned, Furious Angels would be there for them. Like the Rob Dougan song.
4.
Found my own mind after the slumber – asleep, then awake. I realized several hours passed - at least enough to wake up and witness the sun rise above the sea. But as for dreams, the light veil of their memories wasn't something to rely upon. But i did remember something, and it was some overtone in dread; an atmosphere of fear – and a kind of dread sustained in it’s inevitability by the urgency that builds upon dearth.
Now what exactly was it though? I couldn’t remember from my dreams, but ever since i falled to my own death i had always present in mind the future succesion of events that would follow when things started to go very wrong. Iran, the U.S, Israel - now whatever was it in the news; the outcome would be the same. A thousand more cuts to an already languishing economy. Make that corpse bleed, and then fall off a cliff.
As such things would be cooked, just as the bird of britain. The bird was still there though: just in pieces and roasted like the contents of a dropped KFC bucket would. But the little shit would return - as it always did. The economy? Not so much.
Yet i digress. None of the world circumstances mattered as far i was concerned – i had built a small and portable solar system to power my laptop, and my beer supply was well, infinite - i made myself sure that i had my needs covered whatever happened around me. Not tied to even a house for that matter. I incorporated myself and gave my back a stretch. The morning breeze coming from the sea evocated in my memories some time that had long passed – late childhood. I rejected those memories as they beared with them things i didnt wan’t to remember - then wen’t on as usual in my morning routine scrolling through my instagram feed, figuring if there were any new hoes to maybe motivate me into doing my God imposed labour.
Labour which was to either write, or to finish the House of Water — then after scrolling i did in fact saw a new hoe; i dropped a Faux Pas comment. Maybe she would play along, maybe not. Whatever. Sometimes I would put in a lot of effort to do a rhyme. But the effort depended on the insta-hoe in question. I know. Not the best of habits, but back in elementary school i was the kind of kid that would only get motivation when the girls in the classroom were present in physEd. And then i would run faster: whole lotta faster. Run Forrest! Run! Women love used to fuel me; and the habit sticked — and at the moment, i was kinda done with the idea of female trascendence. Would rely on their love, but not on their validation. Not like a simp. Fuck that.
Furthermore, what results did i demonstrably mustered after pursuing true egalitarianism and sharing it? Exactly. A bitch gonna do what a bitch gonna do, and so does the human female. After publishing the comment, I locked my phone and walked towards the highway, as i was planning to pay a visit to somebody long forgotten - I had kind of a schedule that i was going to follow, before taking the plane to Madrid and become hispanic Jon Snow from the walgreens Nightwatch.
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— Hearfelt comment for an instagram witch.
Del desprecio a ese descarte, no he visto muchas cosas. Así se pasa una más para las cuentas, y aquí otro más para los versos, por qué aquí no hemos sido vistos. Cuánto más querría uno, que sino lo cuentas ni mucho menos piensas: << lo de este pibe que cosa más horrible>>, haciendo eso lamentable, por qué en decirlo nadie ha mentido. ¡Es horrible! Que cara es entonces la cuenta de lo que le sale a uno vivir sin más complejos; mejor seria cobrarmelo, para así saber que de algo ha valido. Bloqueame.
— Heartfelt comment for a random supermodel-to-be.
The Spirit of Fire
Flames begone, flames in spite: their warmth I felt - so I closed my fist until I could feel the warmth of my blood in my hand. And in dreams Fire came up to me and said: who am I? And I said unto him: you are bound to my bidding, thus your name misery will be. But fire wretched as he was, got closer and asked: and who are you?
And I said unto him that the blood of David ran through my veins, as I was his heir; for the mother of God claim me from death as a son. So Fire tried me, and figured it out.
You are son of woman —said Fire unto me— but as Fire acknowledged the name, I extended my left hand, and took Fire by the neck throwing him into the gound. — You are going to lace yourself to the right hand of the beast, and you'll keep him steady, so I can cleanly take him down. And Fire stayed down, and with his forehead kissing the ground asked unto me —why would the heir of David do so to earthly man?
And I said unto Fire that the beast from the abyss had left no mother for God, so I was to leave none of his body left for his head; as I was going to make it bleed until the end of the end of times.
The Spirit of Earth
Shapeless and without body, but keen within her many numbers, Earth came up to me in dreams, and said: who am I? And posessed in spirit as I was, I said unto her, that God had made her maiden again, and that she shall become the coins that Judas never received, which were to become the due payment of man and women for the body of Christ. Then I extended my right hand, and grabbed Earth by her hair —which descended deep into the abysses of hell— and cut it short so the demons of Lilith would no longer had her gripped by her back.
You are now a woman, and I'm going to rise you from the grounds. You'll lace yourself to the left hand of the beast, and keep it steady so with one shot I can cleanly take him down.
The Spirit of Air
A dream shaped by written words, whispered down for years by the currents of this Montain, and it's requiem witnessed but by a few — the end of dreams. But from where I standed at the peak, I called upon the distant currents that went down, and asked them: who am I?
And Air came unto me as bird, which had thousands of letters for feathers, and in the tongue of dead men answered.
"Somebody who only a few will remember by strange deeds; as the burden on your back, is a past tainted by impossible dreams. You were a lunatic giving new names to folk, and folk never bothered to remember —so your name must be freak, as you died in a forgotten shack some short time ago."
And as Air said these things upon me, I called Misery —as I had dubbed Fire — and told him to get inside my shot. The burden as Air had said, became lesser as i took the shot from my quiver. And I said upon Misery; that he was to set ablaze this arrow, as I was taking down the bird of Britain, and that I would do so, so God would give the deeds of Earth some better names.
The Lord is making a bridge between the empire of strength, and the last empire of men. Now by God's grace, I'm making the tongue of free men, the tongue of Spain. You will be eventually bound to my bidding, and if not me, it will be to the one I'm preceding; for I'm giving you twenty years to attone your wrongdoing. Alas, now because of your wretchedness, my shot on earthly men won't be clean, for his left leg won't stay steady.
Your old name was apathy, now I'm calling you Cisma, which in the tongue of dead men means schism. So now by the will of God lay unto the ground and say the words you've been teached. And as the arrow blazed forward, it's bending motion pierced the veil hiding the secret ladder of men. The bird of Britain catched on Fire, and it's hollering resounded throught the ladders of the mountain until the depths of the abyss. A column of air turned into fire, then violenty erupted from the vowels of the bird, and the wild fire spread as a storm from west to east all throughout the five kingdoms of men away from its own fiery wings, with a gift of misery and a few words to say.
"The name of your woman or the name of your man, will no longer explain their purpose to a man, a woman, or God. Charred words written by thunder will now be the new ladder of men — but until then, darkness upon thee."
The House of Water
I head into the coasts, and the beautiful beaches in-between, to find the stranger who burns images in the skin of men. He is the stranger, and has adopted the body of a monster, and he is one who cannot be understood, so he went on to only go out home in stunts, for the burdens in his heart have become too great to bear. Through terrible pains he has given all he once was for an identity, and as I pick up on his past, i found familiarity in the feelings of his heart. Oh dear friend how we found looking in sadness to ourselves, after doing same but with different means, carrying into our shoulders the loneliness of this world. As you have in-skin the garments of the strange doctrine that I preach — I shall congrate you, for you truly have fought the world entire, for my doctrine is the words of those who shall defeat the world entire.
I may not have your strangeness in-body, but I have it in these words, and in the true feelings of my heart. And I say in admiration that there's no higher form of art, philosophy or religion: than those who perform the highest thing they can give a name about.
Now even within solitude, and at odds with what old dead men call God, I see you and I found strength in you, as I can see you are within me, and in that, you are within everything as it should be - as is meant in everyone who does something that touches the heart of another man. I call this the kingdom of God. Yet blind men and women will wonder how can the kingdom of God possibly be within two outcasts such as you and me.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Upong giving my regards and waiting for response, I found my way into a bench. It was a warm afternoon, and the wind carried the water of the sea. The bird of Britain came about down from the wind of north, and layed on the bench were I was sitting.
The bird asked: why hast thou become this?
And I said back to bird, scorched he was and nearing death, that it was me someone who was supposed to give names, yet for years I couldn't figure out one for myself. Then on went to being given a name, Alas all the wrong ones. Did Adan gave himself a name? - I asked the bird back. And there was no response from bird. Then I continued.
A man has the essence of his soul retained by what he is seen doing. Yet I did things nobody saw, so my soul wasn't with God but with something just as ancient, and nonetheless unknown by men in its true nature — then Satan as the better known devil, came about and pushed me into a hole. It was my own doing. Yet the things I did, I thought were seen. But nonetheless what I did was without contemplation on a posible return. Just as somebody who prints an image on their own skin. It's permanent. This is the essence of a memory in the soul of the man who's seen by others. But in the familiarity of a man who picked every irreversible decision like the Alien, I find myself feeling sympathy, for the man is still not what he has been seen doing, he shall redeem himself by what he decides to turn himself into.
Is this a way of saying that you want to get yourself a tattoo? Get a new look? - the bird mockingly asked.
And I gave the scorched bird no answer.
Then the bird said unto me: what about your career as a prophet, uh? And the things you said about returning with substance? Do you actually think this is substance?
And i considered what the Bird said, then I negated with a movement of my own head. It is not i answered, but i find the memories of me not making sense unbearable. For those mean the memories of a fool, un pendejo, an insane person, or both. And I will always try to amend what I don't do well. But now I wish for only one thing, and it is to be remembered as someone who makes sense, and who out of that sense, made good upon the world. I don't expect anything in return for what I do now, as it is merely an outlet to keep me sane while I finish editing my work. It's clear I'm too incompetent to be a competent influencer. As for once, I don't care about influencing anyone into what I think; but to perform what I think it's important.
Then every proverbial student is free to take classes so as they see fit, and to interpret such classes as their comprehension gives them grasp of what it's said. In such regard, this is what I offer now, while I make the journey to Madrid. And the bird tilted it's head so as to observe me with his left eye, then after a long impasse, it made a loud and painful caw, and finally flew away. Soon after the bird flew, I looked upon the stars in the nascent night, and confessed to them, that it was the memories of who we were, what often stumps us into wrong beliefs of who we should be, maybe even wasting an entire lifetime retained by that which other people remembered us as being. But we are not the owners of our own names, the place we go, and our destiny. That's the biggest lie the western world of hollywood heros tell you, as in truth is collective agreement what determines what we look like doing and thus the meaning we should comfort to, recalling that names are practical mechanisms to remember the purpose of things, their meaning, and how their motion is described in the world.
But making the task of beating that collective belief, akin to the Nietzschean ideal of the camel turning into the lion, so as to transform it's spirit and become something else. But if it's the golden dragon of all the huamn values which judges you insane, will you be prepared to wrestle with the entire culture so as to have your way?
As I layed my eyes upon each star counting up to the number seventeen, I confessed of being scared of those beliefs, as revisiting the past, became a painful deed — and as I prepared to leave, I uttered one wish on the seventeenth point in the sky.
Lord please grant me strength, the way you have given my friend strenght.
2.
The night deepen, while the sea tide sang its own song of breathing. Some time passed, and then on the stranger showed himself approaching at the distance. I waved my hand at him, and after the instant, he found his way into my bench while I welcomed him with an extended fist which he casually bumped - after the short acknowledgement the dark alien looked at my face in between it's cover of dark, and looking at it undiscernable in its true features, with suspicion asked.
— What is it that you want?
I acknowledged him as a friend, then mentioned my brief research, as I had come to know him as man looking for a job, yet nobody would hire for things mundane due to his appearance. I listened closely to the news, and came to understand that this was a man looking for a second chance.Then I saw the intent behind his doing, and two words came to stick to my own thoughts. The first one was <
In analytical psychology I figured this man was the ESFP —the personality archetype related to the performer and the entertainer—, possessed in an abnormal way by the spirit by which a person submits to it's contrary nature, seeking to integrate and find fulfillment through the chase of what's perceived absent. If he was the ESFP then doing the flip by following the radial axis of each Jungian function in the stack towards their opposite resulted in the INTJ. The mastermind. The architect. The genius yet awfully complex individual. That was the elusive spirit he was chasing.
But a spirit and a character that at its most pronounced embodiment in a person, would experience life as an eternal foreigner hiding from the light of other men. Such made sense to me, for I myself was the INTJ, and had at spirit the ESFP. Him. So where as this man chased the spiritual fulfillment of being a complex and deep individual, I chased the fulfillment of becoming simpler, so I could demonstrate with action the deepest desires of my heart. One who was born plentiful in means to be liked, becomes complex, mysterious and uncomprehended, meeting one who will be seen trying to make sense becoming simpler. For Carl Jung portrayed the anima and animus of individuals, as the sense of what its absent, yet deeply cherished an valued. So I said these things to the alien, while he silently listened to me.
— All of that sounds like bullshit to me. -Said the alien after some contemplation .— Sorry but the things you say, don't mean anything to me.
And alas for I expected such response, as if one thing was true about this journey, was that explaining the journey in and of itself would become it's grimmest task. I affirmated what he just said with a slight nod of head.
— These things I say and how they relate to each other, in its excercise are similar to doing stecheometric balance with equations in the head, but simpler I'm afraid. - Then I paused, looked back into the sea, and continued. — That's high school chemistry, but I don't expect everybody to pick up on it, nor like it, nor understand it.
— Now i have called you a friend, and where I came from we dub with this title the people we share destiny with. As far as I'm concerned, we are chasing the same thing, which is the hardest posible thing. We both innately understand that we are not home, as we want our spirit to return to us, and that's not what a lot of people ever honestly try to attempt in a lifetime; as such is anyone's call to feel complete.
— And very few people ever reach true individuality, beyond the name they are imposed at birth.
Then I looked into the black alien, and in-between his foreign facial features, I interpreted something familiar. Disturbance. And I continued.
— We have given ourselves hell as we lived chasing something hard, so we can avoid the same hell later on when we are finally back to our own house. This is a christian precept, altought a rundimentary one. Does that makes sense to you?
And after listening such, the black alien calmly looked at the veil in my face in silence. Trying to discern what my face actually looked like, but the night was dark. Then turned his stare back to the reflection of the moon over the waters, giving some thought to what I just said. I opened up my backpack, and drawed two cans of beer from it. Offered one to him, and he silently refused with a gesture of hand. I popped my can and gave it a sip, while I myself stared at the tides coming in and out of the shore.
— If you wan't a tattoo, we can work that out. But this sounds annoyingly familiar, and my interest is not religious. Are you religious?
I nodded in affirmation, and complemented saying. — But my doctrine is something nobody has heard nor seen. For its aim, is doing as Christ said, in perfect means. Yet its true that the teaching fits you, as it's the teaching of the future man; and there's nothing in common between the current man and the future man, as they may very well be different species. This is the precept of evolution.
The alien seemed surprised.
— These two men don't know each other, for the current man doesn't know where the future man comes from, for he himself doesn't know where he is going. Yet in deep realization of your own artistic concept, I think you might want new ideas to meet with your appearance. So tell me, are you curious about what truly happens to a man after he dies? Do you want to learn how to read someone's mind? Do you want to blast with words of fire the hearts of an amazed crowd?
But the black alien broke his calm contemplation of what I was saying, and slighty disturbed, aggressively rebuked after hearing such.
— But you mentioned 'Christ', so you must be christian. How can a christian even say anything interesting in this current time? Last time I asked, their sayings were dreaded by restriction - so why would anyone condemn themselves to a life of bore? Are you a christian?
And I nodded after the question, in silence. Admittedly, for I knew what the problem was with being what I was, and my new companion was bang on identifying it. Made a pause, then raised my sight to where it met with the sky and the stars in it, and I said back to him.
— I am, but not one of a type you have ever seen, for the Christ that comes, is a Christ of art.
2.
The riptide sang, in its secret dialect of earth and sea. I looked upon the coast, turned an eye blind, and saw the ocean as the scorpio, and the land as the taurus; as it was the struggle between two lovers, never meant to consume each other. Ideal love then - yet not to confuse with this partnership as it was whimsilcally tied by the means in which i arranged my current conversation; for my lady somewhere waited for me. Then i allowed my eyes to rest still.
The alien looked upon me, undiscernable in my intentions, and again figured for himself that my interest towards him wasn’t clear. In suspicion, and after the moment he collected his thoughts asked “In your weird words you dubbed me performer, so what is it exactly that you wan’t from me. To me it seems like you are gathering people for some form of religious clown show. When you forced this meeting upon me, was this a proposal you thought i would find amusement in?”. And after the statement my own stare wandered in my conversation partner. While as he had his say, i returned to my can of beer, and finished it with a long gulp. Tempered in an unwillingness to fall to my new found friend irritation, i said within my own thoughts: “The alien looks easy going, but he is barbed in wit”.
Then i opened the can of beer that the stranger rejected; the loud pop resounded in the relative silence, interrupting for a moment the steady chorus of the sea. Gave it a long sip, and said.
– Theres no proposal in place yet. But im certain of something, and that is that both of us are messed individuals which reached the bottom doing the same thing - but the way my understandment of the human soul goes: two people can act by mere interaction as reactives to each other, creating a new chemical compound after the fact.
– This new psychology is very much like chemistry. But it is not my intention to draw you into something, but to pull myself out of this «something» by doing right on another person and maybe that person reflecting the good back on me. I just need a conversation partner, thats all. And i will do this with you, and with many people more. Presidents included.
The alien reflected on it, and after the hiatus of a long standing position of suspicion he finally gave in, and eased up with a slight smile. A strange smile of relief. But the smile, was all too familiar for me, as i realized the man was a tortured individual: a person in long standing pain. I smiled back the way he did, and continued.
– Our pain has a common name, and is a name that can be written with words unfortunately. It’s the devilish mother of all spiritual ills and its foundation, rests at the concept of a past that wasnt solved. It’s called «inadequeacy», and for people like you and me, understanding one day that such inadecuacy had to be solved by our own means, lead us into an act where our name changed as the changes in our cover up act to solve our inadequacy did.
– We never honored the past or the present in our pursuit, as we desired in passion to find solution to the present, by matching it into the idealization of some future without ever realizing that the old or present essence of ones being would be crushed into non existance by said future.
– Then we found the realization of that new name, only to understand that its demands became a tyranny on the other faces of our soul: as our soul is not something that can be undestood in unity, but something that conceives in the beginning in multiple things which try to give shape to one thing. Theres many people in a village, and our minds, are no exception.
— But happiness is only achieved by those who have their soul entire - or those who are the same person regardless of the context and scenario. And we gave to much to somebody that wasn't us, as our spirit took possession and lead us down.
– This is this the essence by which someone goes to hell, only to do one thing over again, getting an ever lasting pain for all the things that were given up chasing that which was absent. The more someone is forced into being shaped by the thing that was concevied in lust, the more the individual misses the place they used to call home, for that is no longer within ones reach. Does this makes sense to you?
The alien left me with no answer, and as he contemplated the sea, a tear travelled through his strange face.
– In this state of anguish, affliction rarely ever feels company, as the very individual condition that was pursued, became a full suit and persona to be forced upon and wear. Hell, is one lonely place man because we only learn to speak a language, that only makes sense to ourselves. But i think we can find a way out of it. This is why I'm here.
“Look, what you’ve done, it’s not something i can see the way you can see my own doing on me.” The alien replied. “Besides the way in which i canno’t see your face in this night, you seem ordinary — but what you talk and the way you say it, evokes in every word regret. What is it that you’ve done that has you regret like this?”
As the alien finished speaking, I emptied the can of beer, layed my eyes on the irregular grooves that my feet had left on the sand, and then replied back to him, after making a recap of the story i had repeatedly told myself after falling down.
“My story, is the fairy tale of a guy who makes way for the new coming of a new man; a better man for the world, while he casts disarray upon the earth: much to his dismay, at the expense of his own soul as the people who become victims of disasters, were ones who this man deemed unfair; cruel, evil, despicable in past. That was at the beginning."
"Theres a pile of corpses behind that character — even in covid time, people as close as the local priest of the small town he lived in, would break their neck after falling in the shower, as he had the slightest suspicion of their secret deeds. All clean deads for that matter. Untraceable to nothing but sheer randomness. Magic as it seeems. But were this folk truly evil people or even guilty of anything? You may ask - the man never knew it for sure, as he never had faculties such as godly omniscience to actually know it; which has taken a toll on him, as the burden of justice is an unberable one for anything but a god."
"Which leads to another point: spontaneously picturing random numbers in the head, associating them with psychological compounds by angular momentum, and actually being bang on the suspicion. Truth friend, in its stochastic presentation: it's unberable.”
“Consequential of such attempts to rationalize his own story in the eyes of people such as close family, my dude became clinically diagnosed with referenced thinking. Which are fancy words for schizophrenia. Nobody believed the story as it was uttered."
"Yet the consequences are there for everyone to see, altought not visible in their cause and effect by anybody but this guy, which lead him first into regret over ever starting his quest as a reformer; and then repent.”
“Now before he realized of this lets call it «curse», he preached for years over the internet as the disasters started to slowly creep up. He preached in a fashion parallel to Niestzches Zarathustra; Zarathustra meaning a famous philosophical device artificied by the philosopher Niestzche, who’s aim was to portray the best posible man, as something he dubbed the <<Übermensch>> ”.
“Such concept being the seemingly more elegant brand of a humanist ideal for a not so distant future: today - albeit a wrong one, for this guy was not dyonisian himself. The backbone of his framework, is analytical psycholgy becoming a chariot for a true understandment of human nature: and ultimately a facilitator for love within light: not within ignorance; not within darkness. Most philosophers today though would mock anything analytical in it's aim."
"Then on the guy preached and dwelved further into the relative hole of his own doctrine: and became imprisoned by what he didn’t got right at first attempt, making him in the process the character that Nietzsche from the comfort of his own writers seat, never attempted to actually embody within realistic means: eventually figuring out within himself the ultimate Nietzschean aristocrat: a magic pen granted by being capetian by mother: from judah by father."
"But Alas, you have no idea how common suicide is within philosophers after they finish their best work. As language, becomes the ultimate barrier for understandment, and then to ones capacity to feel love. Difference — true saliency in ones individual destiny— leads to the gravest posible pain. Ironic isn’t it?”
“Besides technical work with a new form of psychology inspired by analytical chemistry, as that drawed from his efforts during the light of day, five years ago, once he felt the urge to try to reach out to the world from a position of what he deemed was greater understandment: he primitively preached during night his new set of ideas for people to behave beyond the limitations of manipulative psychology, albeit a harsh doctrine meant to clear the way for a better product: Christ himself."
"This is not a doctrine a human being can actually perform, as such its christianity at its highest capacity to bear fruit. It’s an impossible doctrine, yet solves the oldest problem posed in the bible. All which sounds very sci-fi bullshit-y but actual problems started for the protagonist in this tale, when the preaching matched with terrible consequences. Not figurative, but within tangible reality.”
“So just as we talk, theres a small legion of hackers pretending to be doing internet social experiments while talking in an artsy matter: much in my own style, entertaining the exact same concepts - a legion of dangerous monkeys, i have no control over."
"One of the many unexpected consequences being this, yet prompted by something evil; ancient: essentially replicating what my protagonist developed and then preached over the years, while these "hacktivists" lay their attention on things and people, as they select them and enforce upon them strict surveillance, to behave properly. Then to destroy them, as they did in 2020 with many corporations and institutions.A bizarre combination of theater actors to my own liking, and then cyber-security demigods: omniscient in their claims to surveill, and they are - derivative such of another device of what I've done; which is to build a theater so people can make-believe that they are infact performing within themselves something greater - but that's matter for another story."
“Most of the corpses piling up flat out dead, have no relation to him whatsoever; they became victims as my protagonist took measures to fight back the monster he found at the foundation of the known world. This is not an elaborate analogy for one's own unseen capacity for evil, as i mean this: a monster as literally as it can be. For these things friend, im doomed as in true strenght, i have nothing but the pen i use to write down what i think albeit always at danger of it’s eventual inversion. I have no real friends left. Not one who can understand, or help bear the pain: as friendship and love are all gated by understandment."
"The full story has many more vertients, but i think i’ve done it enough justice. This is the predicament of an insane man chased by his own shadow as he builds a better man: one who delivers heavenly things, and then a shadow stringed to deliver tyranny as the very strings behind him make the better man stumble while he tries to keep a grasp of his own spirit, and then of his own soul."
"That monster behind, is wicked smart — and cannot be outwitted nor overpowered but anything but divine smite."
“I’m heading now to a new country, to try to get friends from the only institution in the world who knows and adresses the current times being, and who by extension, might believe me. And to clarify, these being the end of times; but not the end of the world. Yet now i myself have a damocles sword pending over my own head, and i need to do something about it before it falls.”
And as i said these things, i reached out to my backpack drawing a third can of beer from it — besides my own super laptop, thats what my backpack had: an infinite supply of beer. Corona, Indio, Victoria, Dos Equis, Heineken; you name it. I popped the can, and gave it a long and definite sip as i emptied it complete.
The alien didn't try to show that he understood, but stood still in silence, with his sight in the sand below and pressing lips, knowing by my demeanor; that these things as I've said them was something that I needed to do. Then he said: "I don't follow man. You say you preach and then disasters occur. Like a prophet from the bible?"
"Yes. Then I preached to get rid of the things that are actually making the world worse, and something awoke soon after, and since then; everything I do is subject to being misinterpreted due to the diffamatory action of this thing. Now everytime I do something, it can be twisted and turned against my original intent. Right now the hackers are my worst problem: I may have a degree in computers but I have no fucking idea whatsoever of hacking. I earn my living as an A.I engineer.".
The alien raised his sight to meet with mine, and after doing some contemplation on the fact, quite simply said: "You are insane". Then lowered his own sight, and raised it again to meet with the sea and continued. "If you want a tattoo, we can work that out. But either way and whatever parts of your story are true and even worse; the ones you may be lying about: you sound dangerous in a delusional kind of sense, and my life is hard enough as is."
I pressed my fists, knowing then the old same thing had happened again. For I had never forced anything upon anybody, and I was willing to respect that until the bitter end. Then I released the build up of frustration with a loud sigh, and after this amend, I replied back.
"I understand and respect it. But let me just propose you that if you ever want to figure what is beyond life as it's lived by person who has never seen what is like to be someone you write a great story about; you can pin me, and I'll show you what's beyond that door. Give it some thought."
The alien; The Black Alien Project stayed there sitting, spechless but calm, almost expecting something else to be convinced about. But pointless, for i knew that nobody can be forced into anything without bringing a transgression into play – and i wasn’t one to taint myself in sin if it could be avoided. Not anymore.
3.
I made the distance at steady pace walking along the shore, until i found a small group of pines in-between the liminal space of the beach and the land. I sat with one of the pines trunk behind my back, and drawed the Schizo Pills from my eternal supply of traveller goodies.
Quetiapine 100 mg, and Olanzapine 10 mg, i made a smaller fragment from the olanzapine pill, and swallowed both complete. As their side effects were concerned, they would soon knock me out of conscience, as this little ritual was my own way of calling the day complete – then i layed there, vigilant, waiting for my own drowsiness to claim me into sleep - but the Bird of Britan came flying from above, and stood besides me.
\Chirp, Chirp, Chirp**
I watched the bird, annoyed, as its presence had become an omen for contempt. For me and the death people of my past. I frowned upon the little shit, and said nothing. The bird made a little nod, while tilting its head in excentricity the way birds do, and replied. — Hey Andrew!, do you remember when you tried to penetrate your own computer to make a universe grow inside of it? I just wan’t to know something: did your computer moan? Did it finally learnt how to scream your name?
\Chirp Chirp**
Ignoring the bird, i closed my eyes and stayed like that for a long moment, hoping to make the bird think i was asleep. Maybe that would make him leave.
— Can’t bullshit me like that Sweetheart. So please tell me something; why don’t you command one of your supermodels; these muses, to come here and warm the bed for you. It's a cold night and you seem lonely brah
. \Chirp Chirp**
I opened my eyes, and irritated, pointed menacingly at the bird turning my left hand into an imaginary gun. I had already failed at something today, and wasn’t convinced i needed the memory of the things i failed at before. Not now.
- Hol’ up cowboy ! you wan’t to bang my bird ass when you should be banging a bitch ass. What happened with Tyrone huckleberry? Did you managed to make him as impotent as you are right now? —I held steady my hand; and tired, the tempation to pull again the trigger on the bird was growing larger. I saw red roses in my own sight, making a terrible omen for a migraine forthcoming. Said nothing.
Said nothing.
- Alright cowboy, i will give meaning to that revelations verse. What was it? Ah yes. Revelations 9:6. Every single person with an internet history will be as paranoid as you were in 2020. Everyone will be diffamated into acts of political terrorism! Aren’t you am-
"No longer care for love unless it's between good friends”. Said to myself. There was certainly a migraine coming, but maybe my dreams would help convince it otherwise. And as far as the hoes were concerned, Furious Angels would be there for them. Like the Rob Dougan song.
4.
Found my own mind after the slumber – asleep, then awake. I realized several hours passed - at least enough to wake up and witness the sun rise above the sea. But as for dreams, the light veil of their memories wasn't something to rely upon. But i did remember something, and it was some overtone in dread; an atmosphere of fear – and a kind of dread sustained in it’s inevitability by the urgency that builds upon dearth.
Now what exactly was it though? I couldn’t remember from my dreams, but ever since i falled to my own death i had always present in mind the future succesion of events that would follow when things started to go very wrong. Iran, the U.S, Israel - now whatever was it in the news; the outcome would be the same. A thousand more cuts to an already languishing economy. Make that corpse bleed, and then fall off a cliff.
As such things would be cooked, just as the bird of britain. The bird was still there though: just in pieces and roasted like the contents of a dropped KFC bucket would. But the little shit would return - as it always did. The economy? Not so much.
Yet i digress. None of the world circumstances mattered as far i was concerned – i had built a small and portable solar system to power my laptop, and my beer supply was well, infinite - i made myself sure that i had my needs covered whatever happened around me. Not tied to even a house for that matter. I incorporated myself and gave my back a stretch. The morning breeze coming from the sea evocated in my memories some time that had long passed – late childhood. I rejected those memories as they beared with them things i didnt wan’t to remember - then wen’t on as usual in my morning routine scrolling through my instagram feed, figuring if there were any new hoes to maybe motivate me into doing my God imposed labour.
Labour which was to either write, or to finish the House of Water — then after scrolling i did in fact saw a new hoe; i dropped a Faux Pas comment. Maybe she would play along, maybe not. Whatever. Sometimes I would put in a lot of effort to do a rhyme. But the effort depended on the insta-hoe in question. I know. Not the best of habits, but back in elementary school i was the kind of kid that would only get motivation when the girls in the classroom were present in physEd. And then i would run faster: whole lotta faster. Run Forrest! Run! Women love used to fuel me; and the habit sticked — and at the moment, i was kinda done with the idea of female trascendence. Would rely on their love, but not on their validation. Not like a simp. Fuck that.
Furthermore, what results did i demonstrably mustered after pursuing true egalitarianism and sharing it? Exactly. A bitch gonna do what a bitch gonna do, and so does the human female. After publishing the comment, I locked my phone and walked towards the highway, as i was planning to pay a visit to somebody long forgotten - I had kind of a schedule that i was going to follow, before taking the plane to Madrid and become hispanic Jon Snow from the walgreens Nightwatch.
2024.05.15 18:50 BaraaBilalPal What is the future tense in spanish
Future Tense in Spanish: Conjugating and Using It
The future tense in Spanish, known as "el futuro" or "futuro simple," allows you to express actions or events that will happen in the future. This tense is straightforward and consistent once you get the hang of it.Conjugation of Regular Verbs
To conjugate regular verbs in the future tense, you'll keep the infinitive form of the verb and add the appropriate endings. Here is the structure:Infinitive + Ending
The endings for -ar, -er, and -ir verbs are the same and are as follows: - yo: -é - tú: -ás - él/ella/usted: -á - nosotros: -emos - vosotros: -éis - ellos/ellas/ustedes: -án
Examples:
- Hablar (to speak):
- yo hablaré
- tú hablarás
- él/ella/usted hablará
- nosotros hablaremos
- vosotros hablaréis
- ellos/ellas/ustedes hablarán
- Comer (to eat):
- yo comeré
- tú comerás
- él/ella/usted comerá
- nosotros comeremos
- vosotros comeréis
- ellos/ellas/ustedes comerán
- Vivir (to live):
- yo viviré
- tú vivirás
- él/ella/usted vivirá
- nosotros viviremos
- vosotros viviréis
- ellos/ellas/ustedes vivirán
Irregular Verbs in the Future Tense
Some verbs have irregular stems but use the same endings. Here are a few common ones:- Tener (to have): tendr-
- yo tendré, tú tendrás, él/ella/usted tendrá, nosotros tendremos, vosotros tendréis, ellos/ellas/ustedes tendrán
- Hacer (to do/make): har-
- yo haré, tú harás, él/ella/usted hará, nosotros haremos, vosotros haréis, ellos/ellas/ustedes harán
- Decir (to say): dir-
- yo diré, tú dirás, él/ella/usted dirá, nosotros diremos, vosotros diréis, ellos/ellas/ustedes dirán
- Poder (to be able to): podr-
- yo podré, tú podrás, él/ella/usted podrá, nosotros podremos, vosotros podréis, ellos/ellas/ustedes podrán
Usage
The future tense is used to: 1. Express actions that will happen: Mañana estudiaré para el examen (Tomorrow I will study for the exam). 2. A possibility or conjecture about the present or future: ¿Qué hora será? (What time could it be?/What time is it, I wonder?). 3. Convey promises or commitments: Te llamaré esta noche (I will call you tonight).Practice with Pal
Want to put your new knowledge to use right away? Pal can definitely help you practice conjugating and using the future tense in Spanish!- Go to Get-Pal.com/WhatsApp/.
- Come up with a sentence that uses the future tense (For example: "Mañana estudiaré para el examen") and send it to Pal.
- If your sentence has any mistakes, Pal will correct it and explain the right way to say it in Spanish. Even if you’re spot-on, Pal will continue the conversation to help you practice more and become fluent. If you're unsure about creating a sentence yourself, simply ask Pal for examples or guidance!
2024.05.15 18:50 BaraaBilalPal What is the conditional tense in spanish (Condicional simple)
Learning the Conditional Tense in Spanish (Condicional Simple):
The conditional tense, known as "Condicional Simple" in Spanish, is used to talk about actions that would happen under certain conditions or hypothetical situations. It often correlates with the English "would" and is a fantastic way to express politeness, desires, or hypothetical scenarios.How to Form the Conditional Tense:
To conjugate most verbs in the conditional tense, you simply add the conditional endings to the infinitive form of the verb. The endings are the same for all three verb types (-ar, -er, -ir):- Yo: -ía
- Tú: -ías
- Él/Ella/Usted: -ía
- Nosotros/Nosotras: -íamos
- Vosotros/Vosotras: -íais
- Ellos/Ellas/Ustedes: -ían
Irregular Verbs in the Conditional
Some verbs do have irregular stems in the conditional tense. Here are a few common ones:- Decir (to say) → dir- (diría, dirías, diría, diríamos, diríais, dirían)
- Hacer (to make/do) → har- (haría, harías, haría, haríamos, haríais, harían)
- Poder (to be able) → podr- (podría, podrías, podría, podríamos, podríais, podrían)
- Tener (to have) → tendr- (tendría, tendrías, tendría, tendríamos, tendríais, tendrían)
Usage of the Conditional Tense:
- Politeness:
- ¿Me podrías ayudar? (Could you help me?)
- ¿Le importaría cerrar la puerta? (Would you mind closing the door?)
- Hypothetical Situations:
- Si tuviera dinero, viajaría por el mundo. (If I had money, I would travel around the world.)
- Desires or Wishes:
- Me gustaría aprender a bailar. (I would like to learn how to dance.)
- Future Actions from the Past:
- Él dijo que vendría más tarde. (He said he would come later.)
Practice with Pal:
Practice and master the conditional tense with Pal:- Visit Get-Pal.com/WhatsApp/
- Create a Sentence: Think of a sentence using the conditional tense. For example, "Si tuviera tiempo, leería más libros." (If I had time, I would read more books).
- Send it to Pal: Share your sentence with Pal via WhatsApp.
- Learn from Corrections: If there are any mistakes, Pal will correct them and guide you through the right usage. You can also ask Pal for examples or help if you are stuck.
- Keep the Conversation Going: Continue chatting with Pal in Spanish to reinforce your learning and work towards fluency.
2024.05.15 18:50 BaraaBilalPal What is the Present Subjunctive (Subjuntivo presente) in Spanish
Understanding the Present Subjunctive (Subjuntivo presente) in Spanish
The present subjunctive (subjuntivo presente) is a verb form used in certain moods and situations in Spanish. Unlike the indicative mood, which deals with facts and certain events, the subjunctive mood is used to convey uncertainty, wishes, emotions, doubts, and hypothetical situations. It's often introduced by clauses such as "que" (that), and it follows specific structures.When to Use the Present Subjunctive:
- Wishes or Desires:
- Example: “Espero que tengas un buen día.” (I hope you have a good day.)
- Emotions:
- Example: “Me alegra que estés aquí.” (I'm glad that you're here.)
- Doubts:
- Example: “Dudo que él llegue a tiempo.” (I doubt he will arrive on time.)
- Impersonal Expressions:
- Example: “Es importante que estudies.” (It’s important that you study.)
- Hypotheticals:
- Example: “Si tú fueras rico, ¿qué harías?” (If you were rich, what would you do?)
How to Form the Present Subjunctive:
The conjugation of verbs in the present subjunctive follows a specific pattern:- Start with the yo form of the present indicative.
- Remove the -o ending.
- Add the subjunctive endings.
- -AR verbs: e, es, e, emos, éis, en
- -ER and -IR verbs: a, as, a, amos, áis, an
| Infinitive Verb | Yo form (Indicative) | Subjunctive Stem | Present Subjunctive Forms |
|---|---|---|---|
| hablar (to speak) | hablo | habl- | hable, hables, hable, hablemos, habléis, hablen |
| comer (to eat) | como | com- | coma, comas, coma, comamos, comáis, coman |
| vivir (to live) | vivo | viv- | viva, vivas, viva, vivamos, viváis, vivan |
Irregular Verbs
Some verbs are irregular in the present subjunctive. For example:- ser (to be): sea, seas, sea, seamos, seáis, sean
- ir (to go): vaya, vayas, vaya, vayamos, vayáis, vayan
- dar (to give): dé, des, dé, demos, deis, den
Practice with Pal
Now that you have a grasp of the present subjunctive, it's time to put it into practice!How Can Pal Help You with the Present Subjunctive?
A. Visit Get-Pal.com/WhatsApp/ to start a conversation with Pal. B. Come up with a sentence using the present subjunctive. For example, try something like: "Espero que tengas un buen día." (I hope you have a good day.) C. Send your sentence to Pal. If there are any mistakes, Pal will correct you and provide the right phrasing in Spanish. Pal will then continue the conversation in Spanish, giving you more opportunities to practice and become fluent. If you're unsure of what to write, feel free to ask Pal for help!Remember, the key to learning a new language is consistent practice and engagement. With Pal, you have a conversational partner available at all times to help you master Spanish efficiently. Happy learning!
2024.05.15 17:23 very-original-user ثِتونج ځوېٓسِنہ ⟨th'Tundj Gwýsene⟩ — How Did We Get Here?
=BACKGROUND=
Gwýsene ⟪ثِتونج ځوېٓسِنہ⟫ ⟨th'Tundj Gwýsene⟩ /θɛˈtund͡ʒ ˈʝyːzɛnɛ/ (or "the least Germanic Germanic language") is a Germanic language descendant from Old English spoken in Nabataea (modern-day Jordan, Sinai, and northwestern Saudi Arabia). It takes place in a timeline where the Anglo-Saxons get kicked out of Britain by the Celts, therefore they sail all the way to Nabataea (I pride myself on my realism here) and settle there. Most of them eventually convert to Islam, and, as a consequence, Arabic becomes elevated to the language of academia, nobility, and poetry."English" as we know it still survives in-timeline as Englisc — basically Middle English with some modifications — spoken as a minority language in southeastern Britain (or Pritani as the Celts call it in-world).
==ETYMOLOGY OF GWÝSENE==
⟨Gwýsene⟩ ⟪ځوېٓسِنہ⟫ is derived from ځوېٓسِن (Gwýsen) + ـہ- (-e, adjectival suffix), the former from Middle Gwýsene جِٔويسّمَن (ɣewissman), a fossilization of جِٔويسّ (ɣewiss, "Geuisse") + مُن (mon, "man"), from Old Gwýsene יוש מן (yws mn, yewisse monn), from Old English Ġewisse monn.
⟨Tundj⟩ ⟪تونج⟫ is loaned from an Arabized pronunciation of Old Gwýsene תנג (tng, tunge) (from which descends the doublet ⟨Togg⟩ ⟪تُځّ⟫ /toɣ(ː)/, "tongue")
The Englisc exonym is ⟨Eizmenasisc⟩ /ɛjzmɛˈnaːsɪʃ/, From Brithonech (in-world Conlang) Euuzmenasech /ˈøʏzmə̃næsɛx/, from Middle French Yœssmanes /ˈjœssmanɛs/ (hence modern in-world French Yœssmanes /jœsman/ and Aquitanian (in-world) ⟨Yissmanes⟩ /ˈiːsmans/), from Middle (High) German \jewissmaneisch (hence modern in-world German *Jewissmännisch** /jəˌvɪsˈmɛnɪʃ/, Saxon Jewissmannisch /jɛˌvɪsˈma.nɪʃ/, and Hollandish Iweesmanis /iˈʋeːsmanɪs/), Ultimately from Middle Gwýsene جِٔويسّمَن (ɣewissman). Doublet of Englisc ⟨iwis mon⟩ /ɪˈwɪs mɔn/ + ⟨-isc⟩ /-ɪʃ/
=PHONOLOGY=
| Consonants | Labial | Dental | Alveolar | Post-Alveolar | Palatal | Velar |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Nasal | /m/ | /n/ | ||||
| Plosive/Affricate | /p/ /b/ | /t/ /d/ | /t͡ʃ/ /d͡ʒ/¹ | /k/ (/g/)² | ||
| Fricative | /f/ /v/ | /θ/ /ð/ | /s/ /z/ | /ʃ/ /ʒ/¹ | (/ç/)³ (/ʝ/)³ | /x/ /ɣ/ |
| Tap/Trill | /ɾ/ /r/ | |||||
| Approximant | /w/ | /ɹ/ (/l/)⁴ | /j/ | /ɫ/ |
| Vowels | Front | Central | Back |
|---|---|---|---|
| Close | /i/ /iː/ /y/ /yː/ | /u/¹ /uː/¹ | |
| Near-Close | (/ɪ/)⁵ (/ʏ/)⁵ | ||
| Mid | /e/ /eː/ /ø/ /øː/ | /o/ /oː/ | |
| Open-Mid | (/ɛ/)⁵ | (/ɐ/)⁵ | (/ɔ/)⁵ |
| Open | /æ/ /æː/ | /ɑ/ /ɑː/ |
- Nonnative phonemes
- allophone of /k/ inter-vocalically
- allophones of /x/ /ɣ/ near front vowels
- allophone of /ɫ/ when not near any back vowels and/or velar consonants.
- allophones in unstressed syllables
==EVOLUTION FROM OLD ENGLISH==
The Phonological evolution from Old English to Old Gwýsene are as follows:
- /g/ /j/ => /ɣ~ʝ/
- /h/ => /x/
- /f/ /θ/ /s/ => /v/ /ð/ /z/ word-internally
- /l/ => /ɫ/
- /x/ /ɣ/ => /ç/ /ʝ/ near /i/ /e/ /ø/
- /eo/ /eːo̯/ => /iɔ̯/ /iːɔ̯/
- /æɑ/ /æːɑ̯/ => /iɐ̯/ /iːɐ̯/
- /iy/ /y/ => /ø/
- /iːy̯/ => /øː/
- /ŋk/ /ŋg/ => /kː/ /ɣː/
- /w̥/ /r̥/ /l̥/ /n̥/ => /fː/ /sː/ /ʃː/ /nː/
- /-çt/ /-xt/ => /-ç/ /-x/
- /r/ => /ɹ~ɻ/ post-vocalically
- /iɔ̯/ /iːɔ̯/ => /iɐ̯/ /iːɐ̯/
- /i/ /y/ /u/ => /ɪ/ /œ/ /ʊ/ when unstressed
- /e/ /ø/ /o/ => /ɛ/ /ɛ/ /ɔ/ when unstressed
- /æ/ /ɑ/ => /ɐ/ /ɐ/ when unstressed
- /p/ /t/ /k/ /b/ /d/ => /b/ /d/ /g/ /v/ /z/ word-internally
- /p/ /t/ /k/ /b/ /d/ => /f/ /s/ /x/ /v/ /z/ word-finally
- /wi/ => /wy/ => /yː/
- /ɪ/ /œ/ /ʊ/ => /ɛ/ /ʏ/ /ɔ/
- /ɔ/ => /ɐ/
- /i(ː)/ /u(ː)/ => /y(ː)/ /o(ː)/
- /o(ː)/ /æ(ː)/ /ɑ(ː)/ => /ɑ(ː)/ /e(ː)/ /æ(ː)/
- (/æː/ /uː/ => /i/ /ɑ/ in open syllables)
- /eː/ => /i/
- /iɐ̯/ /iːɐ̯/ => /eː/ /iː/
Gwýsene has 4 main dialect groupings:
1- Southern Dialects
Spoken around in-world Áglästrélz /ˈɑːɣɫɐˌstɾeːɫz/ [ˈɑːʁɫ(ə)ˌsd̥ɾeːɫz]. Speakers of these dialects tend to pronounce:
- /Vm/ /Vn/ /Vɫ/ as syllabic [N̩] [ɫ̩]
- /ɹ~ɻ/ as [ɰ] in non-rhotic accents
- /w/ as [ɥ] near front vowels
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [pʰ] [tʰ] [kʰ]
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [b̥] [d̥] [g̊] word-internally
- /ɛ/ /ɐ/ as [ə]
2- Central Dialects
Spoken around in-world Keü-Nüvátra /keʏ ˌnʏˈvɑːtɾɐ/ [kɛɨ ˌnɨˈvɒːtɾɐ]. Speakers of these dialects tend to pronounce:
- /ç/ /ʝ/ as [h] [j]
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [pʰ] [tʰ] [kʰ]
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [p˭] [t˭] [k˭] word-internally
- /Vɹ/ /Vːɹ/ as [Vʴ] [Vʴːɹ]
- /ʏ/ /y/ /yː/ as [ɨ] [ʉ] [ʉː]
- /u/ as [ɯ] (though not that common)
- stressed /e/ /ø/ /o/ as [ɛ] [œ] [ɔ]
- /ɑ/ /ɑː/ as [ɒ] [ɒː]
- /æ/ /æː/ as [ä] [äː]
3- Western Dialects
Spoken in in-world Ettúr /ɛtˈtuːɻ/ [ətˈtuːɽ]. Speakers of these dialects tend to pronounce:
- /ç/ /ʝ/ as [x] [ɣ]
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [p˭] [t˭] [k˭]
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [b] [d] [g] word-internally
- /b/ /d/ as [β̞] [ð̞] word-internally, instead of /v/ /z/
- /ɹ~ɻ/ as [ɾ~ɽ]
- stressed /e/ /ø/ /o/ as [ɛ] [œ] [ɔ]
- unstressed /e/ /ø/ /o/ as [ə] [œ] [ə]
- /eː/ /øː/ /oː/ as [ɛː] [œː] [ɔː]
Spoken in in-world Ämma̋n /ɐmˈmæːn/ [(ʕ)ɐmˈmæːn]. Speakers of these dialects tend to pronounce:
- /ç/ /ʝ/ as [h] [j]
- /ɫ/ as [l]
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [p˭] [t˭] [k˭]
- /p/ /t/ /k/ as [b] [d] [g] word-internally
- /b/ /d/ as [b] [d] word-internally, instead of /v/ /z/
- /ɹ~ɻ/ as [ɾ~ɽ]
- /Vɹ/ as [Vː], or [Vɾ] in rhotic accents
- /Vːɹ/ as [Vːː] or [Vː], or [Vːɾ] in rhotic accents
- /ʏ/ /y/ /yː/ as [ɨ] [ɨ] [ɨː]
- /ø/ /øː/ as [ə] [əː] or [ɵ] [ɵː]
- /ɑ/ /ɑː/ as [ä] [äː]
The differing analyses of the Old English sequences /xe͜o xæ͜ɑ/ & /je͜o jæ͜ɑ/ when the change from /e͜o æ͜ɑ/ to /iɔ̯ iɐ̯/ was taking place led to:
- In the south, /i/ was elided into the palatal /ç/ /ʝ/, yielding Modern Southern [χɑ xæ] [ʁɑ ɣæ]
- In the (at the time) North, /i/ was fully pronounced, yielding Modern Central [heː] [jeː]
- [ˈχɑvɱ̩] & [ˈʁɑvɱ̩] in Southern dialects. Used natively in the south and the west and were adopted as the standard forms /ˈxɑvɐn/ & /ˈɣɑvɐn/
- [ˈheːvɐn] & [ˈjeːvɐn] in the Central dialects. Used natively in the center and north and considered nonstandard.
=ORTHOGRAPHY=
Gýsene uses the Arabic script natively alongside a romanization==SCRIPT BACKGROUND==
Since Gýsen use of the Nabataean & then Arabic script preceded the Persians by centuries, the Gýsen Arabic script differs quite a bit from the Indo-Persian system:
- Rasm: Gýsens writing in Nabataean (& carrying over to Arabic) tended to follow Aramaic & Hebrew convention for representing consonants, while the Persian convention was derived from the most similar sounding preexisting Arabic consonants, leading to drastic differences in pointing convention (i‘jām). As Islam spread, the 2 conventions spread in their respective halves of the Muslim World: The Indo-Persian-Derived Eastern convention, and the Gýsen-Derived Western convention:
| (Loose) Consonant ↓ | Western ↓ | Eastern ↓ |
|---|---|---|
| //v// | ⟪پ⟫ | ⟪و⟫ ǀ ⟪ڤ⟫ |
| //tʃ// | ⟪ڝ⟫ | ⟪چ⟫ |
| //p// | ⟪ڢ⟫ | ⟪پ⟫ |
| //f// | ⟪ڧ⟫ | ⟪ف⟫ |
- Vowel Notation: The western convention has a definitive way of expressing vowels when diacritics are fully written, while in the eastern convention diacritics often serve dual-duty due to limitations of Arabic short vowel diacritics.
| Romanization ↓ | Arabic ↓ | Standard Phoneme ↓ |
|---|---|---|
| ä ǀ a | ◌َ | /æ/ (stressed) ǀ /ɐ/ (unstressed) |
| e | ◌ِ | /e/ (stressed) ǀ /ɛ/ (unstressed) |
| o | ◌ُ | /o/ (stressed) ǀ /ɔ/ (unstressed) |
| a̋ ǀ ◌́ | ◌ٓ | /æː/ (standalone) ǀ /◌ː/ (coupled with other vowels) |
| a | ا | /ɑ/ (stressed) ǀ /ɐ/ (unstressed) |
| b | ب | /b/ ǀ /v/ (intervocalically) |
| g | ځ | /ɣ/ ǀ /ʝ/ |
| d | د | /d/ ǀ /z/ (intervocalically) |
| h | ھ | /ç/ |
| w ǀ u | و | /w/ (glide) ǀ /u/ (vocalic) |
| z | ز | /z/ |
| ch | خ | /x/ |
| t | ¹ط | /t/ |
| y ǀ i | ي | /j/ (glide) ǀ /i/ (vocalic) |
| k | ک | /k/ ǀ /g/ (intervocalically) |
| l | ل | /ɫ/ |
| m | م | /m/ |
| n | ن | /n/ |
| tj | ڝ | /t͡ʃ/ |
| - | ¹ع | /Ø/ ǀ /◌ː/ (post-vocalically) |
| p | ڢ | /p/ ǀ /b/ (intervocalically) |
| s | ¹ص | /s/ |
| k | ¹ق | /k/ |
| r | ر | /ɾ/ ǀ /r/ (geminated) ǀ /ɹ/ (post-vocalically) |
| s | س | /s/ ǀ /z/ (intervocalically) |
| t | ت | /t/ ǀ /d/ (intervocalically) |
| y | ې | /y/ (stressed) ǀ /ʏ/ (unstressed) |
| f | ڧ | /f/ ǀ /v/ (intervocalically) |
| ö | ۊ | /ø/ (stressed) ǀ /œ/ (unstressed) |
| - | ء ǀ ئـ | initial vowel holder |
| v | پ | /v/ |
| th | ث | /θ/ ǀ /ð/ (intervocalically) |
| tj | ¹چ | /t͡ʃ/ |
| dj | ¹ج | /d͡ʒ/ |
| dh | ذ | /ð/ |
| j | ¹ژ | /ʒ/ |
| sj | ش | /ʃ/ |
| dh | ¹ض | /ð/ |
| dh | ¹ظ | /ð/ |
| g | ¹غ | /ɣ/ ǀ /ʝ/ |
| v | ¹ڤ | /v/ |
| a ǀ ä | ²ـى | /æ/ (stressed) ǀ /ɐ/ (unstressed) |
| e | ²ـہ | /e/ (stressed) ǀ /ɛ/ (unstressed) |
| 'l- | لٔـ | /‿(ə)ɫ-/ |
| th'- | ثِـ | /θɛ-/ |
- nonnative
- only occur word-finally
=GRAMMAR=
Gwýsen grammar is extremely divergent from the Germanic norm, having been brought about by extremely harsh standardization efforts by the ruling class while backed by academia & scholars. It's heavily influenced by Arabic — being the encompassing liturgical, academic, and aristocratic language during the Middle to Early Modern Gwýsen periods.==PRONOUNS==
\this entire segment will use the romanization only]) The Pronouns themselves have remained relatively true to their Germanic origins, apart from the entire set of Arabic 3rd person pronouns & the genitive enclitics. Gwýsene still retains the Old English dual forms, but they're only used in formal writing:
| 1st Person | Singular | Dual | Plural |
|---|---|---|---|
| Nominative | ih /iç/ | wi /wi/ | wi /wi/ |
| Accusative | mih /miç/ | án /ɑːn/ | ós /oːs/ |
| Standalone Genitive | min /min/ | ág /ɑːɣ/ | ór /oːɹ/ |
| Enclitic Genitive | -min /-mɪn/ | -ag /-ɐɣ/ | -or /-ɔɹ/ |
| 2nd Person | Singular | Dual | Plural |
|---|---|---|---|
| Nominative | thách /θɑːx/ | gi /ʝi/ | gi /ʝi/ |
| Accusative | thih /θiç/ | in /in/ | iw /iw/ |
| Standalone Genitive | thin /θin/ | ig /iʝ/ | iwar /ˈiwɐɹ/ |
| Enclitic Genitive | -thin /-θɪn/ | -ig /-ɪʝ/ | -iwar /-ɪwɐɹ/ |
| 3rd Person Masculine | Singular | Dual | Plural |
|---|---|---|---|
| Nominative | chá /xɑː/ | chama̋ /xɐˈmæː/ | chám /xɑːm/ |
| Accusative | hin /çin/ | chama̋ /xɐˈmæː/ | chám /xɑːm/ |
| Standalone Genitive | his /çis/ | chama̋ /xɐˈmæː/ | chám /xɑːm/ |
| Enclitic Genitive | -his /-çɪs/ | -chama /-xɐmɐ/ | -cham /-xɐm/ |
| 3rd Person Feminine | Singular | Dual | Plural |
|---|---|---|---|
| Nominative | hi /çi/ | chana̋ /xɐˈnæː/ | chán /xɑːn/ |
| Accusative | hi /çi/ | chana̋ /xɐˈnæː/ | chán /xɑːn/ |
| Standalone Genitive | hir /çiɹ/ | chana̋ /xɐˈnæː/ | chán /xɑːn/ |
| Enclitic Genitive | -hir /-çɪɹ/ | -chana /-xɐnɐ/ | -chan /-xɐn/ |
Middle Gwýsene inherited the Old English nominal declension, but due to merging & reduction of (final) unstressed vowels, all endlings were dropped except for the accusative & dative plurals which were later generalized. Middle Gwýsene also dropped the neuter gender, merging it with the masculine & feminine genders based on endings
| Regular Noun Declension | Singular | Plural |
|---|---|---|
| Masculine | - | -an /-ɐn/ |
| Feminine | - | -as /-ɐs/ |
| "Man" (man) ǀ "Bách" (book) | Singular | Plural |
|---|---|---|
| Masculine | man /mɑn/ | menan /ˈmenɐn/ |
| Feminine | bách /bɑːx/ | bitjas /ˈbit͡ʃɐs/ |
| "Tjylz" (child) ǀ "Chänz" (hand) | Singular | (Standard) Plural | (Common) Plural |
|---|---|---|---|
| Masculine | tjylz /t͡ʃyɫz/ | tjylzan /ˈt͡ʃyɫzɐn/ | tjylro /ˈt͡ʃyɫɾɔ/ |
| Feminine | chänz /xænz/ | chänzas /ˈxænzɐs/ | chänza /ˈxænzɐ/ |
Gwýsene has two distinct methods of indicating possession dur to the dropping of the genitive case:
1. A loaned version of the Arabic construct state (present in the standard language, urban areas, and most of the Northern and Western dialects). the Arabic definite article (-الـ) was loaned with its use in the construct state into Late Early Modern Gwýsene as a separate "letter form" [-لٔـ] and prescribed by Grammarians ever since as a "genitive" maker. This method also assumes definiteness of the noun it's prefixed to; it must be prefixed to eneg ("any") for indefinite nouns.
Bách 'lgörel /bɑːχ‿ɫ̩ˈʝøɹɛɫ/ ("the boy's book")
bách 'l - görel book ɢᴇɴ.ᴅғ - boy2. Use of a prefixed fär (equivalent to English "of", cognate with English "for") (present in rural areas and is generally viewed as a rural or "Bedouin" feature). This method does not assume definiteness, and a definite article is required.
Bách färth'görel /bɑːχ ˌfɐɹðəˈʝøɹɛɫ/ ("the boy's book")
Bách fär - th' - görel book of - ᴅғ - boy==ADJECTIVES==
Much like Nouns, adjectives decline for number and gender:
| Regular Adjective Declension | Singular | Plural |
|---|---|---|
| Masculine | - | -an /-ɐn/ |
| Feminine | -e /-ɛ/* | -as /-ɐs/ |
==VERBS==
Gwýsen verbs are the most mangled, both by Arabization and regular phonological development. Gwýsen word order is VSO. Due to pronouns coming after the verb, they merged with the preexisting endings and formed unique endings that were later generalized to standard verb declension (rendering Gwýsene a pro-drop language)
| Present Verb Conjugation | --- |
|---|---|
| Infinitive | -en /-ɛn/ |
| Present Participle | -enz /-ɛnz/ |
| Past Participle | ge- -en /ʝɛ- -ɛn/ |
| Singular Imperative | - |
| Plural Imperative | -on /-ɔn/ |
| 1ˢᵗ singular | -i /-ɪ/ |
| 1ˢᵗ plural | -swe /-swɛ/ |
| 2ⁿᵈ singular | -tha /-θɐ/ |
| 2ⁿᵈ plural | -gge /-ʝʝɛ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ singular masculine | -scha /-sxɐ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ dual masculine | -schama /-sxɐmɐ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ plural masculine | -scham /-sxɐm/ |
| 3ʳᵈ singular feminine | -sche /-sxɛ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ dual feminine | -schana /-sxɐnɐ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ plural feminine | -schan /-sxɐn/ |
As a consequence to the fusional suffixes, the preterite suffixes completely merged with the present ones, so weak verbs need an auxiliary to indicate simple past, which segways us to-
===Auxiliary Verbs===
Most auxiliaries have 2 conjugations: an auxiliary conjugation & a standalone conjugation:
| Sőn ("to be") Conjugations | Auxiliary | Standalone |
|---|---|---|
| Singular Imperative | ső /søː/ | ső /søː/ |
| Plural Imperative | sőn /søːn/ | sőn /søːn/ |
| Singular Subjunctive | ső /søː/ | les-... /ɫɛs-../ |
| Plural Subjunctive | sőn /søːn/ | les-... /ɫɛs-.../ |
| 1ˢᵗ singular | ém /eːm/ | émi /ˈeːmɪ/ |
| 1ˢᵗ plural | synz /synz/ | synzwe /ˈsynzwɛ/ |
| 2ⁿᵈ singular | érs /eːɹs/ | értha /ˈérðɐ/ |
| 2ⁿᵈ plural | synz /synz/ | syngge /ˈsynʝ(ʝ)ɛ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ singular masculine | ys /ys/ | ysscha /ˈyssxɐ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ dual masculine | synz /synz/ | synzchama /ˈsynzxɐmɐ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ plural masculine | synz /synz/ | synzcham /ˈsynzxɐm/ |
| 3ʳᵈ singular feminine | ys /ys/ | yssche /ˈyssxɛ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ dual feminine | synz /synz/ | synzchana /ˈsynzxɐnɐ/ |
| 3ʳᵈ plural feminine | synz /synz/ | synzchan /ˈsynzxɐn/ |
| Auxiliary Declensions | Wesan ↓ | Sőn ↓ | Bín ↓ | Víden ↓ |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1ˢᵗ singular | wes /wes/ | ém /eːm/ | bí /biː/ | va̋ /væː/ |
| 2ⁿᵈ singular | wir /wiɹ/ | érs /eːɹs/ | bys /bys/ | vés /veːs/ |
| 3ʳᵈ singular | wes /wes/ | ys /ys/ | byth /byθ/ | véth /veːθ/ |
| dual/plural | wiran /ˈwiɹɐn/ | synz /synz/ | bíth /biːθ/ | va̋th /væːθ/ |
| Singular Imperative | wes /wes/ | ső /søː/ | bí /biː/ | víz /viːz/ |
| Plural Imperative | weson /ˈwezɔn/ | sőn /søːn/ | bín /biːn/ | vídon /ˈviːzɔn/ |
| Singular Subjunctive | wir /wiɹ/ | ső /søː/ | bí /biː/ | víz /viːz/ |
| Plural Subjunctive | wiren /ˈwiɹɛn/ | sőn /søːn/ | bín /biːn/ | víden /ˈviːzɛn/ |
Most of the strong classes remain in Gwýsene, albeit with completely unorthodox ablaut patterns. They've been re-sorted based on patterns that
| Type (Gwýsene) | Corr. Type in Old English | Present stem vowel | Past singular stem vowel | Past plural stem vowel | Past participle stem vowel |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| I | VII.c | é /eː/ | í /iː/ | í /iː/ | é /eː/ |
| II | IV | e /e/ | e /e/ | i /i/ | a /ɑ/ |
| III.a | I | ý /yː/ | a̋ /æː/ | y /y/ | y /y/ |
| III.b | III.a | y /y/ | ä /æ/ | o /o/ | o /o/ |
| IV.a | II.a | í /iː/ | í /iː/ | o /o/ | a /ɑ/ |
| IV.b | II.b | a/á /ɑ(ː)/ | í /iː/ | o /o/ | a /ɑ/ |
| IV.c | III.b | é /eː/ | é /eː/ | o /o/ | a /ɑ/ |
| V.a | VI | ä /æ/ | á /ɑː/ | á /ɑː/ | ä /æ/ |
| V.b | VII.a | a̋ /æː/ | i /i/ | i /i/ | a̋ /æː/ |
| V.c | VII.e | á /ɑː/ | í /iː/ | í /iː/ | á /ɑː/ |
=TRANSLATIONS=
==NUMBERS==| Number | Cardinal | Ordinal | Adverbial | Multiplier |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | A̋n /æːn/ | Föress /ˈføɹɛss/ | Mer /meɹ/ | A̋nfélz /ˈæːnˌveːɫz/ |
| 2 | Twin /twin/ | Áther /ˈɑːðɛɹ/ | Merdén /mɛɹˈdeːn/ | Twýfélz /ˈtyːˌveːɫz/ |
| 3 | Thrý /θɾyː/ | Thryzz /ˈθɾyzz/ | Thrémra̋s /ˌθɾeːˈmɾæːs/ | Thryfélz /ˈθɾyˌveːɫz/ |
| 4 | Fíwar /ˈfiːwɐɹ/ | Fíradh /ˈfiːɹɐð/ | Fírmra̋s /ˌfiːɹˈmɾæːs/ | Fíwarfélz /ˈfiːwɐɹˌveːɫz/ |
| 5 | Fýf /fyːf/ | Fýfedh /ˈfyːvɛð/ | Fýfmra̋s /ˌfyːvˈmɾæːs/ | Fýffélz /ˈfyːfˌfeːɫz/ |
| 6 | Sysj /syʃ/ | Sysjedh /ˈsyʃɛð/ | Sysmra̋s /ˌsysˈmɾæːs/ | Sysjfélz /ˈsyʃˌfeːɫz/ |
| 7 | Sévan /ˈseːvɐn/ | Sévadh /ˈseːvɐð/ | Sévmra̋s /ˌseːvˈmɾæːs/ | Sévanfélz /ˈseːvɐnˌveːɫz/ |
| 8 | Éht /eːçt/ | Éhtadh /ˈeːçtɐð/ | Éhmra̋s /ˈeːçˈmɾæːs/ | Éhtafélz /ˈeːçtɐˌveːɫz/ |
| 9 | Nygan /ˈnyʝɐn/ | Nygadh /ˈnyʝɐð/ | Nygamra̋s /ˌnyʝɐˈmɾæːs/ | Nyganfélz /ˈnyʝɐnˌveːɫz/ |
| 10 | Tőn /tøːn/ | Tődh /ˈtøːð/ | Tőmra̋s /ˌtøːˈmɾæːs/ | Tőnfélz /ˈtøːnˌveːɫz/ |
بېث نيٓھ ثِوېٓنتِر ڝِٓلز، پِٓث ڝۊٓمسخى ستارم سنِوى. ڝۊم وِثنَن خُٓمسمين وِٓرم، برآثَرمين. سَلٓم! ڝۊم ھېذ، سېځّ ءَنز شّيٓڧ، ڧرِس ءَنز درېھّ. بېثِّس خُطَّمين. ھِپّسوى وِتِر، ءَنز زۊٓثِن، ءَنز مِٓلخ، بېثِّس ڧِرش ءُٓسڧرى ثِکآ. ءوٓ، ءَنز براث وِٓرم!
Byth ních thʼwýnter tjélz, véth tjőmscha starm snewe. Tjöm withnän¹ chósmin wérm, bráthärmin². Säläm³! Tjöm hydh, sygg ænz ssjíf⁴ ⁶, fres⁵ änz dryhh⁶. Bytthes⁷ chottämin⁸. Hevvswe weter, änz zőthen⁹, änz mélch, býtthes fersj ósfrä¹⁰ thʼká. Ó, änz brath!
be.3.ꜱɢ.ᴘʀᴇꜱ near ᴅꜰ-winter cold , ꜰᴜᴛ.3.ꜱɢ come-3.ꜱɢ.ᴍᴀꜱᴄ storm snowy . come.ɪᴍᴘ.ꜱɢ in house-1.ꜱɢ.ɢᴇɴ.ᴄʟ warm , brother-1.ꜱɢ.ɢᴇɴ.ᴄʟ . Welcome ! come.ɪᴍᴘ.ꜱɢ hither , sing.ɪᴍᴘ.ꜱɢ and dance.ɪᴍᴘ.ꜱɢ , eat.ɪᴍᴘ.ꜱɢ and drink.ɪᴍᴘ.ꜱɢ . be.3.ꜱɢ.ᴘʀᴇꜱ-that plan-1.ꜱɢ.ɢᴇɴ.ᴄʟ . have-1.ᴘʟ water , and beer , and milk, be.3.ꜱɢ.ᴘʀᴇꜱ-that fresh from ᴅꜰ-cow . Oh , and soup !
/byθ niːç θə‿ˈyːnzɛɹ tʃeːɫz veːθ ˈtʃøːmsxɐ stɑɻm ˈsnewɛ/
/tʃøm wɪðˈnæn ˈxoːsˌmɪn weːɹm ˈbɾɑːðɐɹˌmɪn/
/sɐˈɫæm tʃøm çyð syʝʝ‿ɐnz ʃʃiːf fres‿ɐnz dɾyçç/
/ˈbyθθɛs ˈxottɐˌmɪn/
/ˈçevvswɛ ˈwedɛɹ ɐnz ˈzøːðɛn ɐnz meɫχ ˈbyθθɛs feɹʃ ˈoːsfrɐ θəˈkɑː/
/oː ɐnz bɾɑθ/
- the words for “in” and “on” merged to än, which was kept for “on”.
- Gwýsens tend to use “brother” as an informal form of address.
- Säläm is only used by Muslim Gwysens. Christian Gwysens prefer Pastos /pɐsˈtos/ (from Ancient Greek ἀσπαστός).
- comes from Old English hlēapan.
- comes from old English fretan.
- Drykken & Ssjípan are within a class of verbs that have a differing imperative stems than the usual inflected stems due to sound changes. In this case the usual stems are Drykk- & Ssjíp-, while the imperatives are Dryhh & Ssjíf. In the central and Low Northern dialects this particular /k/ => /ç/ is not present, and the imperative stem is also Drykk.
- contracted from of Byth thäs (“that is”).
- from Arabic خُطَّة.
- from Latin zȳthum.
- contraction of old English ūt fra (“out of”).
2024.05.15 12:52 JohnMarshallTanner A McCARTHYESQUE PAGAN PLATONIST INTERPRETATION OF THE COLDFORGER IN BLOOD MERIDIAN
Three main interpretations of BLOOD MERIDIAN have been the Gnostic, the Judeo-Christian and the Pagan Platonic. All three have a dividing line separating the Realm of God, or the Realm of Light from the this dark fallen material world in which the Judge or Devil is Archon. In the case of Plato, the Other Side is the realm or dimension of perfect forms.
Plato said that all things in this material world are imperfect copies of the perfect and eternal things in the realm of forms, and he used the example of the horse in his argument, one reason we might look at ALL THE PRETTY HORSES for this idea.
But let's stick first to the Coldforger in BLOOD MERIDIAN:
This other man he could never see in his entirety but he seemed an artisan and a worker in metal. The judge enshadowed him where he crouched at his trade but he was a coldforger who worked with hammer and die, perhaps under some indictment and an exile from men's fires, hammering out like his own conjectural destiny all through the night of his becoming some coinage for a dawn that would not be. It is this false moneyer with his gravers and burins who seeks favor with the judge and he is at contriving from cold slag brute in the crucible a face that will pass, an image that will render this residual specie current in the markets where men barter.
If McCarthy looks at Plato's perfect form realm, or dimension, as the sourse of the imperfect copies of all things including fire (which is where phosphorus comes in) in this material vale, then his metaphor of the Coldforger is the counterfeiter who passes those copies into this flawed world, allied with the Judge. If we look at this in terms of set theory, the master set is on the other side, and the copies slough off into this material world much the way that metaphors sloughed off from the original word, the original language. The Coldforger would then represent the transformer, the joker in the deck, the transfinite zero that shape-shifts copies between the dimensions.
I think that this was McCarthy's idea, though of course not his only idea, and I am not discounting the many other fine interpretations I have read.
Copied from an earlier discussion on this, from a poster whose name has been deleted, there is this on the coldforging of coins, from ALL THE PRETTY HORSES:
In the latter two, they are more involved in fate. In ATPH, Alfonsa talks to John Grady about her father’s theories on coins and fate, that a coin flip is a coin flip, but not everyone’s metaphorical coins are the same. That the metaphysical minter of these coins is perhaps not impartial or perfect and the blanks from which each person’s coin is made from may have irregularities that follow them through life. Grady tells her that the negative things that have come to his life were not his doing, but she doesn’t give that credence. That they happened to him suggests he is a person that these things happen to, perhaps the blank from which the coin of his life was minted from was imperfect in some way.
There are many other interpretations of the Coldforger. What's yours?
submitted by JohnMarshallTanner to cormacmccarthy [link] [comments]
Plato said that all things in this material world are imperfect copies of the perfect and eternal things in the realm of forms, and he used the example of the horse in his argument, one reason we might look at ALL THE PRETTY HORSES for this idea.
But let's stick first to the Coldforger in BLOOD MERIDIAN:
This other man he could never see in his entirety but he seemed an artisan and a worker in metal. The judge enshadowed him where he crouched at his trade but he was a coldforger who worked with hammer and die, perhaps under some indictment and an exile from men's fires, hammering out like his own conjectural destiny all through the night of his becoming some coinage for a dawn that would not be. It is this false moneyer with his gravers and burins who seeks favor with the judge and he is at contriving from cold slag brute in the crucible a face that will pass, an image that will render this residual specie current in the markets where men barter.
If McCarthy looks at Plato's perfect form realm, or dimension, as the sourse of the imperfect copies of all things including fire (which is where phosphorus comes in) in this material vale, then his metaphor of the Coldforger is the counterfeiter who passes those copies into this flawed world, allied with the Judge. If we look at this in terms of set theory, the master set is on the other side, and the copies slough off into this material world much the way that metaphors sloughed off from the original word, the original language. The Coldforger would then represent the transformer, the joker in the deck, the transfinite zero that shape-shifts copies between the dimensions.
I think that this was McCarthy's idea, though of course not his only idea, and I am not discounting the many other fine interpretations I have read.
Copied from an earlier discussion on this, from a poster whose name has been deleted, there is this on the coldforging of coins, from ALL THE PRETTY HORSES:
In the latter two, they are more involved in fate. In ATPH, Alfonsa talks to John Grady about her father’s theories on coins and fate, that a coin flip is a coin flip, but not everyone’s metaphorical coins are the same. That the metaphysical minter of these coins is perhaps not impartial or perfect and the blanks from which each person’s coin is made from may have irregularities that follow them through life. Grady tells her that the negative things that have come to his life were not his doing, but she doesn’t give that credence. That they happened to him suggests he is a person that these things happen to, perhaps the blank from which the coin of his life was minted from was imperfect in some way.
There are many other interpretations of the Coldforger. What's yours?
2024.05.15 10:11 arsh_here Every coupla in Theth Punjabi
For those not aware, a copula is a type of verb like “to be” that joins the subject of the verb with a complement.
In Standard Punjabi, only ਹੈ / ہے hai and ਹਨ / ہان han are used but in Theth Punjabi, there are many words that may be used according to dialect and accent.
In this post I’ll go over them in the present tense as I’ve already made such posts for the past and future tenses. (:
ਵਾ / واہ vā
This is used mostly in Majhi, but is also present in Potohari, as well as in Hindko and some Doabi sub-dialects.
ਗਾ / گا gā
This on the other hand, is limited to Malwai and not heard of in any other dialect.
ਯਾ / یا yā
This is used mostly in Doabi, but sometimes in other dialects too.
ਮਾ / ماں mā
This is used in Puadhi and some Malwai sub-dialects. It is a derivation of ਵਾ / واہ vā
ਆ / آہ ā
This is used everywhere in Punjab and is nasalized to ਆਂ / آں ã to form plurals.
ਹੈਗਾ / ہیگا haigā
This is present in every Eastern dialect of Punjabi though there may be slight differences in its usage. It’s actually a copula used to mark possession but is sometimes used outside of that. Unlike the others, it also has a feminine form ਹੈਗੀ / ہیگی haigī and plural forms as well those being ਹੈਗੇ / ہیج haige and ਹੈਗੀਆਂ / ہیگایا haigīã respectively.
ਏ / اے ae
This is another word that is universally present. Its plural is ਨੇ / نے ne
ਵੇ / و ve
This is a Jatki exclusive form of ਏ / اے ae It does use the plural in its original form though.
ਹਈ / ہائے hayī
This is used in all of the Western dialects.
ਜੇ / جے je
This is used commonly in Western Majhi, but also in Jatki and Eastern Majhi.
ਹੈਪਿਆ / ہیپیا haipyā
This is also solely used in Jatki, and is the same as ਹੈਗਾ / ہیگا haigā
ਥਿਆ / تھا thyā
This is used in Potohari for ਹੈਗਾ / ہیگا haigā
submitted by arsh_here to ThethPunjabi [link] [comments]
In Standard Punjabi, only ਹੈ / ہے hai and ਹਨ / ہان han are used but in Theth Punjabi, there are many words that may be used according to dialect and accent.
In this post I’ll go over them in the present tense as I’ve already made such posts for the past and future tenses. (:
ਵਾ / واہ vā
This is used mostly in Majhi, but is also present in Potohari, as well as in Hindko and some Doabi sub-dialects.
ਗਾ / گا gā
This on the other hand, is limited to Malwai and not heard of in any other dialect.
ਯਾ / یا yā
This is used mostly in Doabi, but sometimes in other dialects too.
ਮਾ / ماں mā
This is used in Puadhi and some Malwai sub-dialects. It is a derivation of ਵਾ / واہ vā
ਆ / آہ ā
This is used everywhere in Punjab and is nasalized to ਆਂ / آں ã to form plurals.
ਹੈਗਾ / ہیگا haigā
This is present in every Eastern dialect of Punjabi though there may be slight differences in its usage. It’s actually a copula used to mark possession but is sometimes used outside of that. Unlike the others, it also has a feminine form ਹੈਗੀ / ہیگی haigī and plural forms as well those being ਹੈਗੇ / ہیج haige and ਹੈਗੀਆਂ / ہیگایا haigīã respectively.
ਏ / اے ae
This is another word that is universally present. Its plural is ਨੇ / نے ne
ਵੇ / و ve
This is a Jatki exclusive form of ਏ / اے ae It does use the plural in its original form though.
ਹਈ / ہائے hayī
This is used in all of the Western dialects.
ਜੇ / جے je
This is used commonly in Western Majhi, but also in Jatki and Eastern Majhi.
ਹੈਪਿਆ / ہیپیا haipyā
This is also solely used in Jatki, and is the same as ਹੈਗਾ / ہیگا haigā
ਥਿਆ / تھا thyā
This is used in Potohari for ਹੈਗਾ / ہیگا haigā
2024.05.15 00:44 DarkSabbatical I found a cursed 4 leaf clover, I am thinking of selling it. (Plus 1 update)
I found a 4 leaf clover last Sunday. Everyone believes it is cursed and want me to get rid of it. I am not sure if it's actually cursed though, or if it actually gives goodluck. The reason Everyone thinks it's cursed is because I found it last Sunday, and the next day (monday) is when the tragedies started. Most of the tragedies have a goodluck, badluck to them. Neutralized luck is what I call it. Neutralized luck is where a bad thing happens to you, but you got lucky it wasn't worse. You can clearly see how it would be worse, but Goodluck stopped it. Most but not all of the tragedies are like this. The first tragedy is my house caught on fire last Monday. The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week. The Goodluck is the door to the breaker box flash welded to the gas pipe. Got lucky Everyone isn't dead. Got lucky only the breaker box was damaged. Insurance is probably covering it. From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days. Next my mom and I worked is worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that. Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. We will call him roommate number 1. Roommate number 2 his childhood dog died on thursday. We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police. Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck. I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons. First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?
UPDATE: Two more bad lucks happened today. 5-14-24 Well actually one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today. So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together. The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages. The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer. I found him today. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones. This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies today. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
submitted by DarkSabbatical to offmychest [link] [comments]
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police. Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck. I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons. First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?
UPDATE: Two more bad lucks happened today. 5-14-24 Well actually one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today. So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together. The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages. The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer. I found him today. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones. This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies today. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
2024.05.14 23:26 Pflynx Wilkowm tå de westfuylske språk!
Westphalian
The westphalian language (not to be confused with the real world westphalian dialect group) is an ingvaeonic language spoken in, well, westphalia. It developed closely with the anglo-frisian languages, though is not one in itself, merely sharing some commonalities with the branch.
Phonology: (i tried to display this in a table, but reddit sucks, so take a list instead)
Consonants
m,n,ŋ,
p,b,t,d,k,g,
f,v,s,z,ʃ,x,h,
ɹ,j,[ɰ],
ɾ,l
Vowels
ɪ,ʏ,ʊ,
ø:,
ə,
ɛ(:),œ,ɔ(:),
a(:)
There are also 4 diphthongs! Those being /eɪ̯/, /aɪ̯/, /œʏ̯/, and /oʊ̯/.
Grammar:
The grammar is quite simplified from its Proto-West-Germanic origins, with nouns having 4 total stems they could be. Those being (using PG derivative terminology) the a-stem, ō-stem, n-stem, and r-stem. The r-stem, though, only contains seven kinship terms. Whilst the a-stem and ō-stem are direct descendants from PG, the n-stem is more of a combination stem of multiple stems ending in *-n. Nouns in westphalian are divided into two genders, common and neuter.
In terms of cases, nouns (and adjectives) can only inflect for two, those being the nominative and objective. The genitive is maintained though, in pronouns. Apart from that, nouns (again, and adjectives), also inflect for the numbers singular and plural.
I will move on to adjectives first, as it is an easier bridge from nouns. Adjectives only have one inflection pattern, instead of the multiple stems nouns could have, and this inflects for all the same things as nouns, but also strong/weak inflection, the predicative, and positive/comparative/superlative. Standard stuff.
Verbs also only have one weak inflection pattern left, though there are still some strong verbs that have different inflection patterns, the vast majority are weak verbs, which inflect using the same pattern. This pattern inflects for a few things, let's begin with person. It inflects for 1PS, 2PS, 3PS, and a general plural form. In terms of tenses, there is the present and past tense (more can be expressed using auxiliaries, this is just what they inflect for). Moods consist of the indicative, subjunctive, and imperative. Apart from that, they also have an infinitive, and a present and past participle.
Examples:
"Welcome to the westphalian language!"
Wilkowm tå de westfuylske språk!
/ˈvɪl.koʊ̯m tɔː də ˈvɛst.fœʏ̯ɰ.ʃə sprɔːk/
"The cold winter is near, a snowstorm will come. Come in my warm house, my friend. Welcome! Come here, sing and dance, eat and drink. That is my plan. We have water, beer, and milk fresh from the cow. Oh, and warm soup!"
De selte winter is neh, een sneastuyrm skoll kuymen. Kuym in mijn werm huys, mijn frent. Wilkowm! Kuym heer, sing en dans, eed en drink. Dat is mijn plan. Wij hebben wader, ber, en meelk frisk von de koo. Oh, en werme suyp!
/də zɛɰtə ˈvɪn.təɹ ɪs neɪ̯ - eɪ̯n ˈsnɛː.stœʏ̯ɹm ʃɔl ˈkœʏ̯.mən - kœʏ̯m ɪn maɪ̯n vɛɹm hœʏ̯s - maɪ̯n fɾɛnt - vɪɰkoʊ̯m - kœʏ̯m heɪ̯ɹ - zɪŋ ɛn dans - eɪ̯d ɛn dɾɪŋk - dat ɪs maɪ̯n plan - vaɪ̯ ˈhɛ.bən ˈvaː.ɾəɹ - bɛɹ - ɛn meɪ̯ɰk fɾɪʃ vɔn də kɔː - oʊ̯ - ɛn vɛɹmə sœʏ̯p/
submitted by Pflynx to germlangs [link] [comments]
The westphalian language (not to be confused with the real world westphalian dialect group) is an ingvaeonic language spoken in, well, westphalia. It developed closely with the anglo-frisian languages, though is not one in itself, merely sharing some commonalities with the branch.
Phonology: (i tried to display this in a table, but reddit sucks, so take a list instead)
Consonants
m,n,ŋ,
p,b,t,d,k,g,
f,v,s,z,ʃ,x,h,
ɹ,j,[ɰ],
ɾ,l
Vowels
ɪ,ʏ,ʊ,
ø:,
ə,
ɛ(:),œ,ɔ(:),
a(:)
There are also 4 diphthongs! Those being /eɪ̯/, /aɪ̯/, /œʏ̯/, and /oʊ̯/.
Grammar:
The grammar is quite simplified from its Proto-West-Germanic origins, with nouns having 4 total stems they could be. Those being (using PG derivative terminology) the a-stem, ō-stem, n-stem, and r-stem. The r-stem, though, only contains seven kinship terms. Whilst the a-stem and ō-stem are direct descendants from PG, the n-stem is more of a combination stem of multiple stems ending in *-n. Nouns in westphalian are divided into two genders, common and neuter.
In terms of cases, nouns (and adjectives) can only inflect for two, those being the nominative and objective. The genitive is maintained though, in pronouns. Apart from that, nouns (again, and adjectives), also inflect for the numbers singular and plural.
I will move on to adjectives first, as it is an easier bridge from nouns. Adjectives only have one inflection pattern, instead of the multiple stems nouns could have, and this inflects for all the same things as nouns, but also strong/weak inflection, the predicative, and positive/comparative/superlative. Standard stuff.
Verbs also only have one weak inflection pattern left, though there are still some strong verbs that have different inflection patterns, the vast majority are weak verbs, which inflect using the same pattern. This pattern inflects for a few things, let's begin with person. It inflects for 1PS, 2PS, 3PS, and a general plural form. In terms of tenses, there is the present and past tense (more can be expressed using auxiliaries, this is just what they inflect for). Moods consist of the indicative, subjunctive, and imperative. Apart from that, they also have an infinitive, and a present and past participle.
Examples:
"Welcome to the westphalian language!"
Wilkowm tå de westfuylske språk!
/ˈvɪl.koʊ̯m tɔː də ˈvɛst.fœʏ̯ɰ.ʃə sprɔːk/
"The cold winter is near, a snowstorm will come. Come in my warm house, my friend. Welcome! Come here, sing and dance, eat and drink. That is my plan. We have water, beer, and milk fresh from the cow. Oh, and warm soup!"
De selte winter is neh, een sneastuyrm skoll kuymen. Kuym in mijn werm huys, mijn frent. Wilkowm! Kuym heer, sing en dans, eed en drink. Dat is mijn plan. Wij hebben wader, ber, en meelk frisk von de koo. Oh, en werme suyp!
/də zɛɰtə ˈvɪn.təɹ ɪs neɪ̯ - eɪ̯n ˈsnɛː.stœʏ̯ɹm ʃɔl ˈkœʏ̯.mən - kœʏ̯m ɪn maɪ̯n vɛɹm hœʏ̯s - maɪ̯n fɾɛnt - vɪɰkoʊ̯m - kœʏ̯m heɪ̯ɹ - zɪŋ ɛn dans - eɪ̯d ɛn dɾɪŋk - dat ɪs maɪ̯n plan - vaɪ̯ ˈhɛ.bən ˈvaː.ɾəɹ - bɛɹ - ɛn meɪ̯ɰk fɾɪʃ vɔn də kɔː - oʊ̯ - ɛn vɛɹmə sœʏ̯p/
2024.05.14 22:14 Carbon_Sixx A Crawling Chaos (Prelude 1/4) *Moderate Entomophobia Warning: Here There be Bugs!*
 | As befits their nature, similarities between chaotic beings are vanishingly rare. Asking for consistency from the children of Chaos is like asking for warmth from a glacier- it is simply not possible under ordinary circumstances. Yet there is a common thread between them, if one knows where to look. Chaos is unpredictable, but never truly random. All chaotic creatures value self-determination, and share a desire to alter the status quo to fit their personal vision. The most common expressions of this are in mischief and fiery idealism. But all too often, Chaos manifests as an insatiable hunger to tear down all that is and replace it with something utterly incomprehensible, horrifying, and sometimes more depraved than anything Evil can dream of. While not our greatest enemy, Entropy represents the most blatant opposing force to the Balance.
Usuz lazily droned across the ochre skies of what may have been the most loathsome place in existence. A rancid marsh of putrefying gore stretched for uncounted leagues below him, the manifested legacy of the sins his kind had committed before the first sunrise, and which persisted unabated to this day. Ekolids like Usuz were never known for impulse control- or anything beyond turning any non-demonic lifeforms they met into living incubators for their parasitic young, for that matter. The land teemed with octillions of insects who thrived on the further infestation of the ekolids' discarded victims. To the staggeringly unlucky mortals who came to Zionyn, the noise and smell alone were truly nauseating, and the realization of where they originated and the implications therein invariably obliterated their sanity. Watching visitors crumble into wailing madness was one of Usuz's favorite pastimes, second only to watching those same visitors explode when the eggs he implanted in them hatched. Their blood fed the innumerable swarms vermin that blotted out Zionyn's sickly sun at regular enough intervals to generate night and day. Truly, this was a paradise of entropy, one that the rest of the planes would get to experience some day. "As above, so below," Usuz chittered from his three irregularly spaced mouths. An ekolid demon. (Credit: Isabel Beis) To his east, the heavy waves of the Resin Sea lapped at a tidal floodplain of translucent brown polymer. The viscous ocean provided building materials for the ekolid hive-cities in the rocky badlands to the north; the demonic equivalent of mortar. The bricks in this analogy were, of course, the corpses of beings the ekolids especially despised. There had been quite a lot of those over the eons. To be an demon of any kind was to be filled with primordial, entropic hatred- for the forces of Law and Good, for the multiverse that looked at them with disgusted contempt, and for everything not of the Abyss that birthed them. A discordant drone filled Usuz's senses, cutting through the omnipresent hum of the marshlands. In addition to the blasphemous language of the Abyss, every ekolid could produce a distinct tone that they used to communicate across long distances. This "verminsong" also induced psychosis in mortals, who would tear themselves to shreds trying to rid themselves of imaginary insects below their skin. But this droning was far more focused and insistent than any ekolid could muster, which meant it could only come from one being. Obox-ob was calling to his children. Usuz wheeled around and flew north at frightening speeds. In a matter of minutes, he had left the decaying marshes and entered the badlands, where the hive-cities sat. This positioning was not out of any desire to avoid the charnel swarm-pits to the south, but rather because the horrid grandeur of Zionyn only became apparent when one could survey the whole layer. Usuz tucked his wings and dived towards the amphitheater in the city of Skitterhome, the largest of the cities and the source of the dark missive. The arena was used primarily for performance hatchings, events where parasitic indulgence met art. Contestants implanted captured creatures with their eggs, and were judged based on the quality of their victims' screams. As he plummeted, he joined a swarm of thousands of ekolids, all headed for the same destination. But it was only as he alighted on the resin-entombed corpse of a long-dead paladin that served as a stadium seat that he could hear his kin buzzing to each other with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Obox-ob comes! O, glorious day! The Prince of Vermin calls to us!" "I wonder what scheme our lord has planned this time. Hope it involves lots of dead mortals." "Well, if he doesn't rip something into bloody chunks first, I'm not listening to a damn thing!" Usuz's many eyes watched the yawning pit in the center of the arena intently. Obox-ob, the demon lord of Zionyn and father of the ekolid race, had ordered the construction of Skitterhome's amphitheater right above the entrance to his lair so that he could enjoy the screams of performance hatchings even while he plotted the downfall of order. It was considered a mark of incredible honor for a contestant when he rose from the pit to devour their victim's corpse. And just like all the other times, a hush came over the buzzing crowd when the Prince of Vermin appeared. Obox-ob was splendid and awful to behold all at once- a massive centipede with far too many razor-sharp legs, who sported a trio of wicked scorpion stingers where his head should be and three faces stacked atop one another at the end of a neck-like tail. His mouth ran vertically up his faces, from which emerged a long tongue tipped with a corkscrew spike. The ancient demon lord's limbs undulated hypnotically as he crawled far faster than should have been possible for a thing of his size. Obox-ob, Prince of Vermin. (Credit: MichaelJaecks) The Prince of Vermin surveyed the demonic swarm with satisfaction. Sensing the ekolids' tension, he extended a forelimb over the great pit. From the depths rose a gaunt petitioner; the soul-husk of a mortal who had pledged himself to entropy in life and arrived in the Abyss upon death. The man looked terrified, but also resolute. With a sharp gesture, Obox-ob seized him in a telekinetic grasp and crushed him into ichorous pulp. The swarm erupted in cheers as their lord shaped the chaotic gore into a new, familiar form: a newborn ekolid. The mortal-turned-demon took in its new, insectile form with chirps of relief, bowed before Obox-ob, and fluttered away to join its fellows. Then the demon lord spoke: "My esteemed offspring," he chittered in a voice that every god of Law had learned to fear, "today is an auspicious day. Not just for Zionyn, nor even our kin throughout the Abyss, but for the scions of Chaos across the multiverse! Cosmic strife and repeated incursions by selfish beings have thinned the veil between the Material Plane and the rest of the multiverse. Should that veil be torn asunder, the realms of mortals shall be laid bare for any with the strength to control them. To the victor go the spoils, and we all know that the forces of Chaos are destined to be the eternal victors!" "The other planar forces- Law, Good, and Evil- are preparing to claim the Material Plane with armies of their own. But we are not ones to shy away from adversity, are we? Imagine the despair the children of Law will feel when they realize that we have beaten them to the prize! We will swarm over the realms, shattering any who would establish a foothold on what is rightfully ours. In our wake shall come hordes of our brethren to unmake the world in our image! Chaos will be all, and all will be Chaos!" Usuz was the first to take up Obox-ob's battle cry, inspiring the other ekolids to add their voices to the discordant choir that shook Zionyn to its foundations and echoed through the whole Abyss. Every demon in the multiverse heard the apocalyptic chant and without knowing why, joined it at once. It spread across the planes, calling every lord of disorder- from the rulers of the slaadi to the very gods of Chaos- to muster their forces for war. Even on the Material Plane, where the forces of the Outer Planes held little sway, some wizards heard a droning in their orb messages that made the inside of their skull itch. The few who understood what it foretold broke down sobbing. Chaos would be all. All would be Chaos. -- /uw Well, that was the most unpleasant thing I've ever written. It's certainly far from the most grotesque post on the sub, but when compared to the goofy stuff that's been posted lately, it's pretty bad. Hooray for tonal whiplash! Fortunately, this is probably the worst the planar incursion event will get. I actually had a bit of fun describing Zionyn in all of its hideous glory, though. The one flaw of the Atrax Saga was that old writer's saw: "show, don't tell." The Age of the Phoenix was a credible threat, but I think it could have been better if Atrax had made more examples to reinforce what would happen to the realms if he wasn't stopped. I don't need to do that with the hordes of Chaos. Zionyn speaks for itself. If you want more like this (for whatever reason), I was inspired by this video by AJ Pickett. Early 2000s D&D lore gets pretty wild at times. And if you want to help squash the most fucked-up ants in the universe, stay tuned! We're just getting started here. And before I go, let me leave you with this: There are bugs under your skin |
2024.05.14 21:58 Euphoric-Earth-4765 An inside look at the culture and ideology of Faith Comes By Hearing PART 1
If you are thinking about working at or if you are thinking about donating to Faith Comes By Hearing/Hosanna [https://www.faithcomesbyhearing.com](https://www.faithcomesbyhearing.com/) you should consider the following. Having worked at Faith Comes By Hearing myself for decades, you should be aware of their culture and ideology. (Arranged from most important to least.)
\*Treatment of the Bible:
Grammatical, historical and cultural context as well as literary genre are all ignored by top management. So, Scripture is often misquoted and misused:
Ignoring basic, common sense guidelines, rules for interpreting the Bible results in misinterpreting, misunderstanding, and misapplying the Bible. Management ignores the fact that observation (what the text says) must always come before interpretation (what the text means); and interpretation always comes before application (how the text applies to me). They do not consider the Bible text objectively first: They treat the text subjectively or relatively or assume what the passage text means. And they ignore the fact that a text cannot mean today what it never could have meant to the original authors and original readers. Exegesis is often contrasted with “eisegesis”; the Greek preposition εἰς means “into,” and hence eisegesis means reading your own meaning into the text. Bible study is not reading your personal theology into some biblical passage. Bible study is letting the text talk to us; we are the listeners, not the talkers. Many Christians just want to know what the Bible “means to me.” If you stop to think about it, this just is not possible. We must do the hard work of learning the author’s original meaning first, and without that we can’t ever know “what it means to me.” A text cannot mean what it never meant.
\*Feelings and experiences rule:
There is a focus by top management on personal experiences and feelings instead of a studied period of reflection: Emotional, simple, popular teaching instead of intellectually careful and doctrinally precise teaching. Bible studies go straight to the question, “What does this passage mean to me?” while bypassing the prior question, “What does the passage say and why do I think my interpretation is correct?” Management promotes and allows employees to get away with applying an understanding of a passage that is based on vague feelings or first impressions and not on the hard work of reading the context, verifying with commentaries and using study tools such as concordances, Bible dictionaries, and the like because a careful exercise of reason is not important in understanding what the Bible actually says for management. Besides, it takes work! For management, Christianity is identified with subjective feelings, sincere motives, personal piety, and blind faith. Management tests the truth not by a careful application of our God-given faculties of thought, or even by biblical mandates (for example, 2 Corinthians 10:5), but rather by private subjective experiences. For the most part, theoretical reason is just not part of the culture at FCBH. In fact, top management will often spiritualizing normal, everyday things like advice, facts, common knowledge:
Example during a meeting, the CEO said he saw a full moon, then clouds formed & covered the moon, then clouds dissipated. He then said he felt God say: "I can turn nothing into something; something into nothing; turn this ministry into something & if it goes thick & blocks Jesus; it has to diminish.”
So, personal, subjective experiences that top management shares equals truth that employees must agree with or at least accept as true.
Also, time is money, but management uses their mandatory meetings to discuss controversial or complex topics (e.g., fasting, communion, tithing, personal stewardship of money, helping the homeless, how to create more interaction with remote workers, how to retain employees, how to hire more Gen Z employees, past trauma), most of which are unrelated to the actual work. Then they ask employees (most of which have no authority to get things changed/done) what their opinion is about the controversial or complex topic, instead of consulting with professionals or experts.
So, top management will read a bible verse (not a paragraph, not a chapter, a verse; usually out of context) using a version of the Bible that is almost a paraphrase. Then share something personal that happened to them, something they did or saw or experienced or a personal conviction that is not related to the verse. Then explain how they felt about it, how they interpreted it. Then they will ask employees (especially internationals) to share similar experiences. And, then if no one shares or comments or speaks, management makes employees feel guilty: Along the lines of “So, God is not working in your life?”
Example: “I felt God give me this verse about gossip. Let me share with you some personal stories about gossip…. This is how I see it. Now, in the last 5 min of our time, I want people to share. I especially want input from internationals. Does anyone have anything to say about this? No, one? Is God not speaking to you? How can God not be moving and speaking? This is unreal….”
Top management will often use a reader response or subjective biblical interpretation: “This is what I think this verse means. What do you think this verse means? What stood out to you? What did you learn? What is God asking you to apply?” This is a very self-centered way to interpret Scripture. The focus is all about you. What you think. What you feel. But, “The Bible is not about you.” - Timothy Keller. And this leads to people looking at the same verse and coming up with completely different interpretations. Everybody seems to have an opinion on what the Bible says/teaches.
So, instead of discovering what the original author said to the original readers. They will take Biblical concepts (e.g., called to ministry; felt led by the Spirit; God spoke to me; felt peace) and then add new meanings to them which the original author did not intend. This is dangerous since it leaves employees with doubt, disillusionment, disappointment, discouragement, and false hope and can leave them with unmet, unrealistic, and false expectations. Top management will also take subjective, unclear biblical principles or non-essentials, or personal convictions and make them scriptural authority and then judge other Christians who do not agree. They will treat the Proverbs as promises. They will also not make an effort to distinguish between Biblical principles and practices which are relative, time bound, culturally subjective, Biblically illustrated (not commanded). They will often make hasty generalizations. They will beg the question. They will commit special pleading, dictionary simpliciter, reductive, faulty analogy and many other fallacies. They will also allegorize promises in Scripture and spiritualize all principles. They assume that all historical narratives have individual identifiable moral application. God’s word should be taught clearly, not in a distorted manner. Top management will proof text and use religious words to promote their agenda.
And top management will encourage others to have this view/philosophy of Bible interpretation. Many incorrectly interpret the Bible and do not even realize it.
I pray to God that this bad method of interpretation is not being taught to internationals, to people who have never had bibles, who do not have biblical discernment, who don't know any better.
\*Inductive Bible study and internationals:
Hermeneutics has been defined as the science and art of biblical interpretation. Hermeneutics helps us understand the Bible. It is a science because there are specific rules the interpreter must follow. It is an art because it takes years of practice to develop the ability to employ those rules properly. There is a difference between a novice and a seasoned interpreter. Hermeneutics has two basic steps, finding what the text meant to its original audience, and then seeing how it applies to our current situation. Unfortunately, many people (Americans included), impose their own personal experiences, theology, and modern culture on to the Biblical text.
Fortunately, God has allowed us (especially Americans) to have Bible dictionaries, commentaries, handbooks, atlases, etc., to help us with correct hermeneutics, to understand the essential historical and cultural information - the context of the original author and readers of the Bible. We have tools that shed light on the text and help us to arrive at the correct interpretation. When you read a commentary, it will provide checks and balances against your possible mistakes. They can answer questions that a reading of the text can never provide or ask questions that you may never think of asking. Unfortunately, many international people groups do not have access to these tools (or even access to mature, trained, and experienced Christians and pastors). And even if they do have access to resources, they may not know how to use them properly (i.e., limitations of commentaries).
Grammatical-Historical Method or Inductive Bible study can easily be done with printed or digital Bibles. But how can a person do this with audio and video Bibles? This is critical especially for international people groups that do not have access to (and may never have) print Bibles.
False gospels and heresies are popular in illiterate people groups because they are not taught discernment or how to evaluate Scripture and the thoughts of others for themselves. People with ulterior motives misuse Scripture and end up influencing the illiterate.
If these Bible Films and audio Bibles are considered to be actual Bible Translations – video and audio translations of the Bible and the equivalent to and sometimes a replacement for print scripture – then should we also make it a point to teach people who are watching and listening to our video and audio Bible translations Biblical hermeneutics (historical-grammatical interpretation)? How to study the Bible properly for themselves?
My experience has been that many non-Christians (and Christians) misquote or misinterpret the Bible because they do not know how to actually read and study it on their own to find out what the text actually meant to the original author and audience and seeing how it applies to their current situation.
There are many ways to study the Bible, and there are many excellent study aids available to help you with specific books of the Bible. But the most important thing you need to remember is that to find out what the Bible says, you need to read it yourself in a way that will help you discover what it says, what it means, and how you are to apply it to your life. And the best way to do this is through the process called inductive study. Inductive study doesn’t tell you what the Bible means or what you should believe. Instead, it teaches you a method of studying God’s Word that can be applied to any portion of Scripture at any time.
Inductive Bible study draws you into personal interaction with the Scripture and thus with the God of the Scriptures so that your beliefs are based on a prayerful understanding and legitimate interpretation of Scripture.
\*Artistic freedom concerns:
Another concern is with the artistic freedom or personal preference when it comes to audio and video Bible media (when these function as replacements for print Scripture). How much can be taken before you compromise the historical accuracy or the meaning and understanding of the original message? A good translation must be faithful to the historical situation and not change the cultural background. In Bible Translation, the translator’s first job is to study the text carefully to discover the correct meaning (what the original author wanted to communicate). Do international people groups understand that the “artistic freedom” (e.g., how the film is lit, the key shots, angles it shoots from, close-ups, point of view, sets, locations and props, editing, the dialogue and the actors’ performance and emotions, wardrobe choices, soundtrack, visual transitions, reference shots), the visuals and sound, are all NOT inspired?
Biblical and Orthodox Christianity teaches that All Scripture (not just some) is inspired by God who utilized the human element within man to accomplish this without error.The very WORDS (not just the ideas, even parts of letters, and sometimes the tense of verbs) are a result of the mind of God expressed in human terms and conditions. The Bible IS fully true in all that it teaches or asserts to be true (including historical and scientific matters). Only the original documents (autographs) are completely free from error. Does FCBH make an effort to explain this to people groups? If not, then there will be conflict when the visuals and sounds that are added do not match the Biblical text. There will be confusion, doubt, disillusionment, disappointment, discouragement, false hope when people are confronted with unmet, unrealistic, and false expectations.
So, using audio and especially video as Bibles should come with some teaching of the basic principles of film criticism, the doctrine of inspiration (difference between artistic freedom and the Word of God), and inductive Bible study or Bible interpretation.
\*Communicating the truth:
They employ a presuppositional and fideistic/experiential approach to evangelism: In the many testimonies that are shared, many of the people who receive the audio bibles say they believe in Jesus because FCBH gave them bibles that are in their native language. Makes you wonder what would happen if the audio was from the Quran or book of Mormon. Would they believe in anything as long as it was in their own language? FCBH does not seem to make sure people are actually believing facts. There seems to be no appeals to evidence and reason for the truthfulness of the Christianity. One should become a Christian and believe that Jesus is God because it is true (from reason, historical evidence, archaeological evidence, theistic arguments) and not because the Bible one reads is in a certain language. You should follow Jesus because He is God and proved it; not because He speaks your language.
\*Hearing from God?
Many in management practice “hearing from God” and then claim God said something specific and personal to them and to the ministry. This practice uses God's name in vain. And often use God to avoid personal responsibility - “I heard from God; God told me; I felt led; God spoke to me…” They then put what happens on God, so they avoid any personal responsibility if it does not come to pass. They make Christianity out to be personal, private, and a matter of “how I feel about things.” Many Christians actually feel spiritually sub-standard and defeated because for them “the heavens have been silent”. This can be debilitating, and it’s profoundly unfair to employees if their only shortcoming is entertaining a false expectation of what a relationship with God entails. Conversations are often littered with casual references to one’s latest revelations without any sense of the gravity of the assertion, or any sense of responsibility to justify the claim. Even Jesus Himself didn’t presume to speak for God without compelling evidence. But, management takes personal opinions and spiritualize them as if they were God’s word to give divine authority to impulses or thoughts that drift through their minds. To say “God is telling me” gives feelings an authority the Scripture does not justify and virtually ends debate. You can’t argue with the person if God supposedly gave the command. Trusting inner feelings is not biblical. It’s confusing at best, and dangerous at worst.
And with certain requests from employees, when top management does not want to do something, they will respond by saying things like: “I need to pray about it first. Sorry, I do not feel led. I need to get confirmation first. I need to have peace about it first. I need to hear from God first.” But with other things, with things they want to do, they do not need to pray about it first, do not need to feel led, do not need to get confirmation first, do not need to have a peace about it first, do not need to hear from God first. When management does not want to do something, they pass the responsibility off to God (“We cannot…. because God didn’t tell us to do it. Didn't get confirmation.”); but when they do want to do something, they don't seek God and do what they want (“We have decided and are going to… and we don’t need to ask God for guidance or permission”).
submitted by Euphoric-Earth-4765 to u/Euphoric-Earth-4765 [link] [comments]
\*Treatment of the Bible:
Grammatical, historical and cultural context as well as literary genre are all ignored by top management. So, Scripture is often misquoted and misused:
Ignoring basic, common sense guidelines, rules for interpreting the Bible results in misinterpreting, misunderstanding, and misapplying the Bible. Management ignores the fact that observation (what the text says) must always come before interpretation (what the text means); and interpretation always comes before application (how the text applies to me). They do not consider the Bible text objectively first: They treat the text subjectively or relatively or assume what the passage text means. And they ignore the fact that a text cannot mean today what it never could have meant to the original authors and original readers. Exegesis is often contrasted with “eisegesis”; the Greek preposition εἰς means “into,” and hence eisegesis means reading your own meaning into the text. Bible study is not reading your personal theology into some biblical passage. Bible study is letting the text talk to us; we are the listeners, not the talkers. Many Christians just want to know what the Bible “means to me.” If you stop to think about it, this just is not possible. We must do the hard work of learning the author’s original meaning first, and without that we can’t ever know “what it means to me.” A text cannot mean what it never meant.
\*Feelings and experiences rule:
There is a focus by top management on personal experiences and feelings instead of a studied period of reflection: Emotional, simple, popular teaching instead of intellectually careful and doctrinally precise teaching. Bible studies go straight to the question, “What does this passage mean to me?” while bypassing the prior question, “What does the passage say and why do I think my interpretation is correct?” Management promotes and allows employees to get away with applying an understanding of a passage that is based on vague feelings or first impressions and not on the hard work of reading the context, verifying with commentaries and using study tools such as concordances, Bible dictionaries, and the like because a careful exercise of reason is not important in understanding what the Bible actually says for management. Besides, it takes work! For management, Christianity is identified with subjective feelings, sincere motives, personal piety, and blind faith. Management tests the truth not by a careful application of our God-given faculties of thought, or even by biblical mandates (for example, 2 Corinthians 10:5), but rather by private subjective experiences. For the most part, theoretical reason is just not part of the culture at FCBH. In fact, top management will often spiritualizing normal, everyday things like advice, facts, common knowledge:
Example during a meeting, the CEO said he saw a full moon, then clouds formed & covered the moon, then clouds dissipated. He then said he felt God say: "I can turn nothing into something; something into nothing; turn this ministry into something & if it goes thick & blocks Jesus; it has to diminish.”
So, personal, subjective experiences that top management shares equals truth that employees must agree with or at least accept as true.
Also, time is money, but management uses their mandatory meetings to discuss controversial or complex topics (e.g., fasting, communion, tithing, personal stewardship of money, helping the homeless, how to create more interaction with remote workers, how to retain employees, how to hire more Gen Z employees, past trauma), most of which are unrelated to the actual work. Then they ask employees (most of which have no authority to get things changed/done) what their opinion is about the controversial or complex topic, instead of consulting with professionals or experts.
So, top management will read a bible verse (not a paragraph, not a chapter, a verse; usually out of context) using a version of the Bible that is almost a paraphrase. Then share something personal that happened to them, something they did or saw or experienced or a personal conviction that is not related to the verse. Then explain how they felt about it, how they interpreted it. Then they will ask employees (especially internationals) to share similar experiences. And, then if no one shares or comments or speaks, management makes employees feel guilty: Along the lines of “So, God is not working in your life?”
Example: “I felt God give me this verse about gossip. Let me share with you some personal stories about gossip…. This is how I see it. Now, in the last 5 min of our time, I want people to share. I especially want input from internationals. Does anyone have anything to say about this? No, one? Is God not speaking to you? How can God not be moving and speaking? This is unreal….”
Top management will often use a reader response or subjective biblical interpretation: “This is what I think this verse means. What do you think this verse means? What stood out to you? What did you learn? What is God asking you to apply?” This is a very self-centered way to interpret Scripture. The focus is all about you. What you think. What you feel. But, “The Bible is not about you.” - Timothy Keller. And this leads to people looking at the same verse and coming up with completely different interpretations. Everybody seems to have an opinion on what the Bible says/teaches.
So, instead of discovering what the original author said to the original readers. They will take Biblical concepts (e.g., called to ministry; felt led by the Spirit; God spoke to me; felt peace) and then add new meanings to them which the original author did not intend. This is dangerous since it leaves employees with doubt, disillusionment, disappointment, discouragement, and false hope and can leave them with unmet, unrealistic, and false expectations. Top management will also take subjective, unclear biblical principles or non-essentials, or personal convictions and make them scriptural authority and then judge other Christians who do not agree. They will treat the Proverbs as promises. They will also not make an effort to distinguish between Biblical principles and practices which are relative, time bound, culturally subjective, Biblically illustrated (not commanded). They will often make hasty generalizations. They will beg the question. They will commit special pleading, dictionary simpliciter, reductive, faulty analogy and many other fallacies. They will also allegorize promises in Scripture and spiritualize all principles. They assume that all historical narratives have individual identifiable moral application. God’s word should be taught clearly, not in a distorted manner. Top management will proof text and use religious words to promote their agenda.
And top management will encourage others to have this view/philosophy of Bible interpretation. Many incorrectly interpret the Bible and do not even realize it.
I pray to God that this bad method of interpretation is not being taught to internationals, to people who have never had bibles, who do not have biblical discernment, who don't know any better.
\*Inductive Bible study and internationals:
Hermeneutics has been defined as the science and art of biblical interpretation. Hermeneutics helps us understand the Bible. It is a science because there are specific rules the interpreter must follow. It is an art because it takes years of practice to develop the ability to employ those rules properly. There is a difference between a novice and a seasoned interpreter. Hermeneutics has two basic steps, finding what the text meant to its original audience, and then seeing how it applies to our current situation. Unfortunately, many people (Americans included), impose their own personal experiences, theology, and modern culture on to the Biblical text.
Fortunately, God has allowed us (especially Americans) to have Bible dictionaries, commentaries, handbooks, atlases, etc., to help us with correct hermeneutics, to understand the essential historical and cultural information - the context of the original author and readers of the Bible. We have tools that shed light on the text and help us to arrive at the correct interpretation. When you read a commentary, it will provide checks and balances against your possible mistakes. They can answer questions that a reading of the text can never provide or ask questions that you may never think of asking. Unfortunately, many international people groups do not have access to these tools (or even access to mature, trained, and experienced Christians and pastors). And even if they do have access to resources, they may not know how to use them properly (i.e., limitations of commentaries).
Grammatical-Historical Method or Inductive Bible study can easily be done with printed or digital Bibles. But how can a person do this with audio and video Bibles? This is critical especially for international people groups that do not have access to (and may never have) print Bibles.
False gospels and heresies are popular in illiterate people groups because they are not taught discernment or how to evaluate Scripture and the thoughts of others for themselves. People with ulterior motives misuse Scripture and end up influencing the illiterate.
If these Bible Films and audio Bibles are considered to be actual Bible Translations – video and audio translations of the Bible and the equivalent to and sometimes a replacement for print scripture – then should we also make it a point to teach people who are watching and listening to our video and audio Bible translations Biblical hermeneutics (historical-grammatical interpretation)? How to study the Bible properly for themselves?
My experience has been that many non-Christians (and Christians) misquote or misinterpret the Bible because they do not know how to actually read and study it on their own to find out what the text actually meant to the original author and audience and seeing how it applies to their current situation.
There are many ways to study the Bible, and there are many excellent study aids available to help you with specific books of the Bible. But the most important thing you need to remember is that to find out what the Bible says, you need to read it yourself in a way that will help you discover what it says, what it means, and how you are to apply it to your life. And the best way to do this is through the process called inductive study. Inductive study doesn’t tell you what the Bible means or what you should believe. Instead, it teaches you a method of studying God’s Word that can be applied to any portion of Scripture at any time.
Inductive Bible study draws you into personal interaction with the Scripture and thus with the God of the Scriptures so that your beliefs are based on a prayerful understanding and legitimate interpretation of Scripture.
\*Artistic freedom concerns:
Another concern is with the artistic freedom or personal preference when it comes to audio and video Bible media (when these function as replacements for print Scripture). How much can be taken before you compromise the historical accuracy or the meaning and understanding of the original message? A good translation must be faithful to the historical situation and not change the cultural background. In Bible Translation, the translator’s first job is to study the text carefully to discover the correct meaning (what the original author wanted to communicate). Do international people groups understand that the “artistic freedom” (e.g., how the film is lit, the key shots, angles it shoots from, close-ups, point of view, sets, locations and props, editing, the dialogue and the actors’ performance and emotions, wardrobe choices, soundtrack, visual transitions, reference shots), the visuals and sound, are all NOT inspired?
Biblical and Orthodox Christianity teaches that All Scripture (not just some) is inspired by God who utilized the human element within man to accomplish this without error.The very WORDS (not just the ideas, even parts of letters, and sometimes the tense of verbs) are a result of the mind of God expressed in human terms and conditions. The Bible IS fully true in all that it teaches or asserts to be true (including historical and scientific matters). Only the original documents (autographs) are completely free from error. Does FCBH make an effort to explain this to people groups? If not, then there will be conflict when the visuals and sounds that are added do not match the Biblical text. There will be confusion, doubt, disillusionment, disappointment, discouragement, false hope when people are confronted with unmet, unrealistic, and false expectations.
So, using audio and especially video as Bibles should come with some teaching of the basic principles of film criticism, the doctrine of inspiration (difference between artistic freedom and the Word of God), and inductive Bible study or Bible interpretation.
\*Communicating the truth:
They employ a presuppositional and fideistic/experiential approach to evangelism: In the many testimonies that are shared, many of the people who receive the audio bibles say they believe in Jesus because FCBH gave them bibles that are in their native language. Makes you wonder what would happen if the audio was from the Quran or book of Mormon. Would they believe in anything as long as it was in their own language? FCBH does not seem to make sure people are actually believing facts. There seems to be no appeals to evidence and reason for the truthfulness of the Christianity. One should become a Christian and believe that Jesus is God because it is true (from reason, historical evidence, archaeological evidence, theistic arguments) and not because the Bible one reads is in a certain language. You should follow Jesus because He is God and proved it; not because He speaks your language.
\*Hearing from God?
Many in management practice “hearing from God” and then claim God said something specific and personal to them and to the ministry. This practice uses God's name in vain. And often use God to avoid personal responsibility - “I heard from God; God told me; I felt led; God spoke to me…” They then put what happens on God, so they avoid any personal responsibility if it does not come to pass. They make Christianity out to be personal, private, and a matter of “how I feel about things.” Many Christians actually feel spiritually sub-standard and defeated because for them “the heavens have been silent”. This can be debilitating, and it’s profoundly unfair to employees if their only shortcoming is entertaining a false expectation of what a relationship with God entails. Conversations are often littered with casual references to one’s latest revelations without any sense of the gravity of the assertion, or any sense of responsibility to justify the claim. Even Jesus Himself didn’t presume to speak for God without compelling evidence. But, management takes personal opinions and spiritualize them as if they were God’s word to give divine authority to impulses or thoughts that drift through their minds. To say “God is telling me” gives feelings an authority the Scripture does not justify and virtually ends debate. You can’t argue with the person if God supposedly gave the command. Trusting inner feelings is not biblical. It’s confusing at best, and dangerous at worst.
And with certain requests from employees, when top management does not want to do something, they will respond by saying things like: “I need to pray about it first. Sorry, I do not feel led. I need to get confirmation first. I need to have peace about it first. I need to hear from God first.” But with other things, with things they want to do, they do not need to pray about it first, do not need to feel led, do not need to get confirmation first, do not need to have a peace about it first, do not need to hear from God first. When management does not want to do something, they pass the responsibility off to God (“We cannot…. because God didn’t tell us to do it. Didn't get confirmation.”); but when they do want to do something, they don't seek God and do what they want (“We have decided and are going to… and we don’t need to ask God for guidance or permission”).
2024.05.14 05:26 stlatos PIE *kVs > Germanic kVs as Optional
https://www.academia.edu/119041827
Grimm’s Law with Verner’s Law explain many consonant shifts in Germanic regularly, but some exceptions exist. Thurneysen’s Law concerns, in part, voicing dissimilation of nearby fricatives and has been interpreted as either irregular or due to unknown changes in Gothic, not of PGmc. date. In this framework I will attempt to add another type of dissimilation of fricatives, also at a distance and irregular, and necessarily of PGmc. date. Many, not all, PIE *kVs appear as Gmc. *kVs, likely due to regular *k > *x then optional *xVs > *kVs in PGmc. Also, *kVz might also be included, depending on the timing of *d > *t, *zd > *st, etc. (*kizdno-, below). This would be dissimilation of [+continuant] in fricatives, or similar changes in whatever system is accepted. Examples:
*kus-ne/ye- ‘kiss’ > H. kuwas-, G. kunéō, Ps. kṣulawul, Gmc. *kusja- > E. kiss, ON kyssa
*H2ak^- ‘sharp’ (in many names of bladed objects, etc.)
*H2ak^si-() ‘axe’ > G. axī́nē , L. ascia
*H2ak^si-wo-? > *H2ak^wisyo- > Go. aqizi, ON øx, OHG acchus, E. ax(e)
*kwa(H2)t(h)o- > Skt. kvath- ‘boil’, Go. hvaþō ‘foam’
*kwa(H2)so- > OBg kvasŭ ‘leaven / fermented drink’
*kwa(H2)s(e/i)yo- > L. cāseus ‘cheese’, *kwasja-z > ON Kvasir ‘a wise Van formed from the spit of gods, killed by dwarves who mixed his blood with honey to ferment into Mead of Poetry’
*kizd- ‘pine (sap) / turpentine pine’ >>
*kizdaH2- > Skt. cīḍā- ‘turpentine pine’
*kizdimo- > *kīḷima- > Skt. kilima-m ‘kind of pine’, A. kíilum ‘turpentine’ (*zd > ḷ after RUKI, as Vedic)
*kizdno- > Gmc. *kizna- > OE cén ‘fipine/spruce’, OHG kén
*H2ag^sulo- > ON öxull, OHG ahsala ‘shoulder’, NHG Achsel ‘armpit’, OE eaxl, E. axle
*H2ag^su- > *H2ak^su- > *aH2k^us-?, OHG uochisa \ uochsana , OE ócusta \ óxta \ óxn ‘armpit’
These are likely related to ‘axle’ < *H2ag^- ‘drive’, but the optional metathesis seems likely limited to Gmc., well after *gs > *ks, etc., *k > x, especially since the same type of metathesis produces *H2ak^wisyo- in a word certainly < *H2ak^- ‘sharp’. When several nearly identical roots vary only in having *k > k in Gmc., a specific change there is preferable to looking for several new roots with only evidence from one branch. Removing ‘axe’ from ‘sharp’ also seems misguided, and attempts to explain this in a reasonable manner would surely have found the common *kVs before now, if tried at all. Manaster Ramer’s idea that Go. aqizi comes from a compound with *-k^g- seems less likely due to the other cases with irregular *k > k all occurring before s, which shows that a sound change is responsible, not an individual explanation for each. Previous attempts to separate all these sets of words since *k > k is not regular do not seem needed if the specific environment *k-s is considered for all these. For example, Kloekhorst said, “The formal as well as semantic similarity to Gr. kunéō ‘to kiss’ (*ku-ne-s-) and OHG kussan ‘to kiss’ is striking. Nevertheless, the Hittite verb cannot be cognate to both, since Gr. k- does not regularly correspond to OHG k-.” Once might be coincidence, but with 5 good examples, the support for this change (or lack of change) seems sufficient. Separating nearly identical words because *k seems to become k shows that a search for only what is clearly regular and a dependence on what is already known as regular has hindered the growth of historical linguistics.
Several other words, less clear, might show that *k-k > k-k could be included:
Li. kaĩras \ kaĩrias \ kairỹs ‘left’, kairė̃ ‘left hand’, Gmc. *kaika- > ON keikr ‘bent backwards’, Dan. kei ‘left hand’
An even less certain case of *x-x > *k-x might be:
*xux- > *kux- > OE cohhetan ‘blusteriot/cough’, Dutch kuch, E. cough
Though this seems to be onomatopoeia within Gmc., thus *xux- has no outside evidence, languages with [x] often have words for ‘cough’ start with this, like:
Khw. xaf-, NP xaf-, Os. xuf-
Though uncertain, such speculation is only possible due to good evidence for *kVs > kVs. The sporadic nature of Thurneysen’s Law seems matched by, at least, this change in all of Gmc., making its nature and scope as PGmc. in age more likely. That these changes were optional need not be evidence they did not exist at all. Any attempt can only lead to absurdities and chaos, all unneeded.
Buck, Carl Darling (1949) A Dictionary of Selected Synonyms in the Principal Indo-European Languages, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago
Kloekhorst, Alwin (2008) Etymological Dictionary of the Hittite Inherited Lexicon
https://www.academia.edu/345121
Manaster Ramer, Alexis (2024, draft?) If Not a Perfect Etymology of the Germanic 'Axe', At least A Dead Ringer for One v
https://www.academia.edu/118943826
Whalen, Sean (2023) Pashto k- entries by Georg Morgenstierne
https://www.reddit.com/Pashtun/comments/128y1hh/pashto_k_entries_by_georg_morgenstierne/
Whalen, Sean (2024a) Cretan Elements in Linear B, Part Two: *y > z, *o > u, LB *129, LAB *65, Minoan Names (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/114878588
Whalen, Sean (2024b) Proto-Indo-European Options for *g^hdh(iy)es ‘yesterday’, Greek i- / e- (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/115010109
Whalen, Sean (?) Indo-European Alternation of *H / *s as Widespread and Optional (Draft)
Woodhouse, Robert (2000) The origin of Thurneysen's law: a detailed analysis of the evidence
https://www.academia.edu/9232685
submitted by stlatos to HistoricalLinguistics [link] [comments]
Grimm’s Law with Verner’s Law explain many consonant shifts in Germanic regularly, but some exceptions exist. Thurneysen’s Law concerns, in part, voicing dissimilation of nearby fricatives and has been interpreted as either irregular or due to unknown changes in Gothic, not of PGmc. date. In this framework I will attempt to add another type of dissimilation of fricatives, also at a distance and irregular, and necessarily of PGmc. date. Many, not all, PIE *kVs appear as Gmc. *kVs, likely due to regular *k > *x then optional *xVs > *kVs in PGmc. Also, *kVz might also be included, depending on the timing of *d > *t, *zd > *st, etc. (*kizdno-, below). This would be dissimilation of [+continuant] in fricatives, or similar changes in whatever system is accepted. Examples:
*kus-ne/ye- ‘kiss’ > H. kuwas-, G. kunéō, Ps. kṣulawul, Gmc. *kusja- > E. kiss, ON kyssa
*H2ak^- ‘sharp’ (in many names of bladed objects, etc.)
*H2ak^si-() ‘axe’ > G. axī́nē , L. ascia
*H2ak^si-wo-? > *H2ak^wisyo- > Go. aqizi, ON øx, OHG acchus, E. ax(e)
*kwa(H2)t(h)o- > Skt. kvath- ‘boil’, Go. hvaþō ‘foam’
*kwa(H2)so- > OBg kvasŭ ‘leaven / fermented drink’
*kwa(H2)s(e/i)yo- > L. cāseus ‘cheese’, *kwasja-z > ON Kvasir ‘a wise Van formed from the spit of gods, killed by dwarves who mixed his blood with honey to ferment into Mead of Poetry’
*kizd- ‘pine (sap) / turpentine pine’ >>
*kizdaH2- > Skt. cīḍā- ‘turpentine pine’
*kizdimo- > *kīḷima- > Skt. kilima-m ‘kind of pine’, A. kíilum ‘turpentine’ (*zd > ḷ after RUKI, as Vedic)
*kizdno- > Gmc. *kizna- > OE cén ‘fipine/spruce’, OHG kén
*H2ag^sulo- > ON öxull, OHG ahsala ‘shoulder’, NHG Achsel ‘armpit’, OE eaxl, E. axle
*H2ag^su- > *H2ak^su- > *aH2k^us-?, OHG uochisa \ uochsana , OE ócusta \ óxta \ óxn ‘armpit’
These are likely related to ‘axle’ < *H2ag^- ‘drive’, but the optional metathesis seems likely limited to Gmc., well after *gs > *ks, etc., *k > x, especially since the same type of metathesis produces *H2ak^wisyo- in a word certainly < *H2ak^- ‘sharp’. When several nearly identical roots vary only in having *k > k in Gmc., a specific change there is preferable to looking for several new roots with only evidence from one branch. Removing ‘axe’ from ‘sharp’ also seems misguided, and attempts to explain this in a reasonable manner would surely have found the common *kVs before now, if tried at all. Manaster Ramer’s idea that Go. aqizi comes from a compound with *-k^g- seems less likely due to the other cases with irregular *k > k all occurring before s, which shows that a sound change is responsible, not an individual explanation for each. Previous attempts to separate all these sets of words since *k > k is not regular do not seem needed if the specific environment *k-s is considered for all these. For example, Kloekhorst said, “The formal as well as semantic similarity to Gr. kunéō ‘to kiss’ (*ku-ne-s-) and OHG kussan ‘to kiss’ is striking. Nevertheless, the Hittite verb cannot be cognate to both, since Gr. k- does not regularly correspond to OHG k-.” Once might be coincidence, but with 5 good examples, the support for this change (or lack of change) seems sufficient. Separating nearly identical words because *k seems to become k shows that a search for only what is clearly regular and a dependence on what is already known as regular has hindered the growth of historical linguistics.
Several other words, less clear, might show that *k-k > k-k could be included:
Li. kaĩras \ kaĩrias \ kairỹs ‘left’, kairė̃ ‘left hand’, Gmc. *kaika- > ON keikr ‘bent backwards’, Dan. kei ‘left hand’
An even less certain case of *x-x > *k-x might be:
*xux- > *kux- > OE cohhetan ‘blusteriot/cough’, Dutch kuch, E. cough
Though this seems to be onomatopoeia within Gmc., thus *xux- has no outside evidence, languages with [x] often have words for ‘cough’ start with this, like:
Khw. xaf-, NP xaf-, Os. xuf-
Though uncertain, such speculation is only possible due to good evidence for *kVs > kVs. The sporadic nature of Thurneysen’s Law seems matched by, at least, this change in all of Gmc., making its nature and scope as PGmc. in age more likely. That these changes were optional need not be evidence they did not exist at all. Any attempt can only lead to absurdities and chaos, all unneeded.
Buck, Carl Darling (1949) A Dictionary of Selected Synonyms in the Principal Indo-European Languages, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago
Kloekhorst, Alwin (2008) Etymological Dictionary of the Hittite Inherited Lexicon
https://www.academia.edu/345121
Manaster Ramer, Alexis (2024, draft?) If Not a Perfect Etymology of the Germanic 'Axe', At least A Dead Ringer for One v
https://www.academia.edu/118943826
Whalen, Sean (2023) Pashto k- entries by Georg Morgenstierne
https://www.reddit.com/Pashtun/comments/128y1hh/pashto_k_entries_by_georg_morgenstierne/
Whalen, Sean (2024a) Cretan Elements in Linear B, Part Two: *y > z, *o > u, LB *129, LAB *65, Minoan Names (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/114878588
Whalen, Sean (2024b) Proto-Indo-European Options for *g^hdh(iy)es ‘yesterday’, Greek i- / e- (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/115010109
Whalen, Sean (?) Indo-European Alternation of *H / *s as Widespread and Optional (Draft)
Woodhouse, Robert (2000) The origin of Thurneysen's law: a detailed analysis of the evidence
https://www.academia.edu/9232685
2024.05.14 05:26 Carpetfreak The Obscure Birds: A Theory Regarding Shakespeare's Macbeth
[I wrote this article about Macbeth for my college's newspaper, and I thought this subreddit might enjoy reading it!]
I have joked before that Shakespeare’s two favorite subjects–surpassing love, murder, madness, and crossdressing–are botany and birds. If you’ve been to New York City you might be aware of the “Shakespeare Garden” in Central Park, whose theoretical aim (though it proves nigh-impossible in practice) is to house specimens of all the plants which Shakespeare mentions in his plays. As it turns out, Bard quotes make for quite a diverse garden: there are roses which assuredly would smell as sweet by any other name; there are daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty; there’s holly, heigh-ho; there’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance, there’s pansies, that’s for thoughts, there’s fennel for you, and columbines–no word on whether or not they could find any violets, though. I suppose there’s no objection to be made against those who complain that Shakespeare’s language is “flowery”; even as vicious a villain as Iago deigns to express his philosophy on life by way of botanical metaphor: “Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.” And, of course, the plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream revolves around a magical flower which makes people fall in love.
I doubt anyone will object to my claiming of birds as Shakespeare’s other poetical fixation: I suspect that the majority of falconry knowledge which most non-falconers have today comes from reading footnotes in their copies of Shakespeare plays, explaining exactly what Richard II means by “How high a pitch his resolution soars,” or why Hamlet says “Hillo, ho, ho” to Marcellus. But while plants are so common in Shakespeare that I don’t know of one play which we might say is especially densely forested with references to them, there is one play that stands out as particularly full of birds in comparison with the rest of the Shakespearean canon. That play is Macbeth.
This is the sort of thing that one only notices after having read a play so many times that the actual events of the plot become akin to the meter of a poem–beats which must be hit, and which start to feel so natural that one hardly notices them–and one’s attention drifts away from the big, important speeches and toward the more utilitarian words and odd little moments that bridge them. I am not the first to point it out, but it is, all the same, a delightful quirk of the play, and could be a good way for Sophomores to throw their classmates for a loop in seminar [Note: Students at our college study Macbeth during their Sophomore year.]: why are there so many birds in Macbeth?
KING. Dismay’d not this/Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? SERG. Yes,/As sparrows eagles… -Act I, Scene II
LADY. …The raven himself is hoarse/That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan… -Act I, Scene V
BAN. This guest of summer,/The temple-haunting martlet, does approve/By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath/Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze/Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird/Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle… -Act I, Scene VI
LADY. Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman… -Act II, Scene II
LADY. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. -Act II, Scene II
PORTER. …come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose… -Act II, Scene III
PORTER. ‘Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock… -Act II, Scene III
LENNOX. New hatch’d to the woeful time: the obscure bird/Clamour’d the livelong night… -Act II, Scene III
OLD MAN. …On Tuesday last,/A falcon, towering in her pride of place,/Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d. -Act II, Scene IV
MACBETH. …Light thickens; and the crow/Makes wing to the rooky wood… -Act III, Scene II
MACBETH. If charnel-houses and our graves must send/Those that we bury back, our monuments/Shall be the maws of kites. -Act III, Scene IV
MACBETH. Augurs and understood relations have/By magot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth/The secret’st man of blood. -Act III, Scene IV
LADY MACDUFF. …the poor wren,/the most diminutive of birds, will fight,/Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. -Act IV, Scene II
LADY MACDUFF. How will you live? SON. As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! Thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime,/The pitfall nor the gin? SON. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. -Act IV, Scene II
FIRST MURDERER. What, you egg! -Act IV, Scene II
MACDUFF. …there cannot be/That vulture in you… -Act IV, Scene III
MACDUFF. …O hell-kite! All?/What, all my pretty chickens and their dam/At one fell swoop? -Act IV, Scene III
MACBETH. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!/Where got’st thou that goose look? SERVANT. There is ten thousand– MACBETH. Geese, villain? -Act V, Scene III
Above I have listed every ornithological reference that I’ve found in the Scottish Play; as we peruse them, we certainly cannot conclude that every individual reference is of the same kind, or carries the same import. I will not pretend, for example, that, just because geese and ravens are both birds, the Porter’s invitation for the imagined English tailor to cook his goose in Hell merits as much attention as Lady Macbeth’s ominous declaration that “the raven himself is hoarse”. Nor do I think that any individual reference particularly demands explication; by itself, any one of these bird-invocations seems perfectly natural. Shakespeare’s talent is such that he can repeat a motif in such a way that on the macro level it is obvious yet on the micro level it hardly feels present. But that macro level is what interests me here: what impression is created, on the whole, by the presence of so many birds in this play? I have a theory, which, though it may seem far-fetched, I think merits at least some consideration, and which, at the very least, I have not seen stated elsewhere, and so may make a novel contribution to the conversation.
Macbeth is both Shakespeare’s most supernatural tragedy and his most Sophoclean; these two superlatives are inextricably related. The appellative Weird given to the opening scene’s three Sisters–derived from the Old English wyrd, meaning destiny, and famously given its more familiar connotation by Shakespeare himself in this very play–is, among the Bard’s works, unique to Macbeth; and just as that word appears nowhere else in Shakespeare, so is the concept it represents absent in all tragedies but this one. Though Hamlet may cry out against outrageous fortune, and though Othello may rhetoricize about how no man can control his fate, it is only in Macbeth that we truly feel that the events we see play out before us are fated, predestined, inevitable. [See Note 1.] The ghost in Hamlet commands his son to revenge his foul and most unnatural murder, but does not tell him it is certain that he will succeed; indeed, would not the drama be sapped of its intrigue if that level of certainty were present? Meanwhile, the supernatural interlopers in Macbeth offer the Scottish thane not a mission, but a prophecy: All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter! From its mystical opening word–When, not If–the Scottish play makes us aware of the certainty of all that is to befall our tragic antihero. Macbeth is thus a different sort of tragedy than Shakespeare’s others, and it works by an inverted mechanism. While the tragedy of, for example, Desdemona’s death is that it may have been prevented, the tragedy of Macbeth’s destruction is that it represents the fulfilment of fate; and this is the very same mechanism by which Oedipus Rex operates, complete with its own “Weird” character in the form of the seer Tiresias. Though Calvin managed to accept that some men are destined for greatness and others for ruin, this idea is, to Shakespeare and Sophocles, nothing short of agonizing–the stuff of tragedy.
Now: what does all of this have to do with birds? Consider these words from Antigone, spoken by Tiresias to Creon:
You shall learn, when you hear the indications of my art! As I took my place on my ancient seat for observing birds, where I can mark every bird of omen I heard a strange sound among them, since they were screeching with dire, incoherent frenzy and I knew that they were tearing each other with bloody claws, for there was a whirring of wings that made it clear… (Lloyd-Jones translation)
Consider next these words from Oedipus Tyrannus, spoken defensively by Oedipus to Tiresias:
Why, come, tell me, how can you be a true prophet? Why when the versifying hound was here did not you speak some word that could release the citizens? Indeed, her riddle was not one for the first comer to explain! It required prophetic skill, and you were exposed as having no knowledge from the birds or from the gods. No, it was I that came, Oedipus who knew nothing, and put a stop to her; I hit the mark by native wit, not by what I learned from birds. (Lloyd-Jones translation)
The practice of divining the future from birds–be it from their behaviors, their cries, or their innards–was, to Sophocles and his contemporaries, not superstitious hokum, but a practical science at which one could be skilled or unskilled, and it bodes ill for Oedipus that he is so quick to disregard it in favor of his own native wit. [See Note 2] By Shakespeare’s day, the practice had long been relegated to the realm of outdated hocus-pocus, but the Bard still saw some truth in it; in Macbeth, there is a recurring sense that, when the world is sick with some great wrong, its first symptoms manifest in the behavior of birds. When the “fatal bellman” the owl shrieks in the night, Lady Macbeth takes it as a sign that her husband is about his bloody business. The day after the murder of Duncan, as Ross converses with an Old Man about the strange things they’ve seen the previous night, “unnatural/Even as the deed that’s done”, the killing of a falcon by a mousing-owl–an omen straight out of Sophocles–is mentioned before the madness and cannibalism of Duncan’s horses, even though the latter would surely be more immediately noticeable and ghastly than the former.
These are the most obvious examples of birds as ill omens in Macbeth; yet even the more innocuous invocations of birds throughout the rest of the play continually turn our thoughts back to the ancient Greek understanding of fate and prophecy, and thereby remind us that, however savagely he may fight at Dunsinane, Macbeth’s fate is as fixed as that of Oedipus. The birds have already foretold all.
Note 1: The closest thing there is to this kind of fatalness in another Shakespearean tragedy is the several superstitious occurrences in Julius Caesar–both the soothsayer’s message of “Beware the ides of March” and the bestial portents such as the lack of a heart in an offering and the whelping of a lioness in the streets. Still, I will insist that these omens do not convey a sense of fatedness to the audience as strongly as the Weird Sisters in Macbeth by virtue of their being told to Caesar himself, not to Brutus, the play’s true protagonist, and by the fact that Shakespeare elsewhere uses dialogue to throw some doubt upon the idea of predestination: "Men at some times are masters of their fates:/The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,/But in ourselves, that we are underlings." -I.ii
Note 2: The Liddell-Scott Greek Lexicon identifies at least two separate verbs referring to bird-based divination, both of which are present in the quoted passages: Tiresias uses ορνϊθοσκοπέομαι, observe birds, interpret their flight and cries, while Oedipus uses οιωνίζομαι, take omens from the flight and cries of birds. The latter term comes from οιωνος, a large bird, bird of prey, such as a vulture or eagle, and so distinguished from a common bird, while the former comes from ορνις, which more generally refers to a bird, including birds of prey and domestic fowls. Birds of both kinds are present in Macbeth; there are οιωναι, such as the “falcon, towering in her pride of place”, as well as ορνες, like the Porter’s goose and cock. I therefore see little value in interrogating the kinds of birds invoked by Shakespeare, the specific cultural associations and significance of the owl, the raven, or the wren; rather, if we reduce them down to their barest existence as birds, animals of the class Aves, and consider them in an ancient Greek light, then things become a bit clearer.
submitted by Carpetfreak to shakespeare [link] [comments]
I have joked before that Shakespeare’s two favorite subjects–surpassing love, murder, madness, and crossdressing–are botany and birds. If you’ve been to New York City you might be aware of the “Shakespeare Garden” in Central Park, whose theoretical aim (though it proves nigh-impossible in practice) is to house specimens of all the plants which Shakespeare mentions in his plays. As it turns out, Bard quotes make for quite a diverse garden: there are roses which assuredly would smell as sweet by any other name; there are daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty; there’s holly, heigh-ho; there’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance, there’s pansies, that’s for thoughts, there’s fennel for you, and columbines–no word on whether or not they could find any violets, though. I suppose there’s no objection to be made against those who complain that Shakespeare’s language is “flowery”; even as vicious a villain as Iago deigns to express his philosophy on life by way of botanical metaphor: “Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.” And, of course, the plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream revolves around a magical flower which makes people fall in love.
I doubt anyone will object to my claiming of birds as Shakespeare’s other poetical fixation: I suspect that the majority of falconry knowledge which most non-falconers have today comes from reading footnotes in their copies of Shakespeare plays, explaining exactly what Richard II means by “How high a pitch his resolution soars,” or why Hamlet says “Hillo, ho, ho” to Marcellus. But while plants are so common in Shakespeare that I don’t know of one play which we might say is especially densely forested with references to them, there is one play that stands out as particularly full of birds in comparison with the rest of the Shakespearean canon. That play is Macbeth.
This is the sort of thing that one only notices after having read a play so many times that the actual events of the plot become akin to the meter of a poem–beats which must be hit, and which start to feel so natural that one hardly notices them–and one’s attention drifts away from the big, important speeches and toward the more utilitarian words and odd little moments that bridge them. I am not the first to point it out, but it is, all the same, a delightful quirk of the play, and could be a good way for Sophomores to throw their classmates for a loop in seminar [Note: Students at our college study Macbeth during their Sophomore year.]: why are there so many birds in Macbeth?
KING. Dismay’d not this/Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? SERG. Yes,/As sparrows eagles… -Act I, Scene II
LADY. …The raven himself is hoarse/That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan… -Act I, Scene V
BAN. This guest of summer,/The temple-haunting martlet, does approve/By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath/Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze/Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird/Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle… -Act I, Scene VI
LADY. Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman… -Act II, Scene II
LADY. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. -Act II, Scene II
PORTER. …come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose… -Act II, Scene III
PORTER. ‘Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock… -Act II, Scene III
LENNOX. New hatch’d to the woeful time: the obscure bird/Clamour’d the livelong night… -Act II, Scene III
OLD MAN. …On Tuesday last,/A falcon, towering in her pride of place,/Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d. -Act II, Scene IV
MACBETH. …Light thickens; and the crow/Makes wing to the rooky wood… -Act III, Scene II
MACBETH. If charnel-houses and our graves must send/Those that we bury back, our monuments/Shall be the maws of kites. -Act III, Scene IV
MACBETH. Augurs and understood relations have/By magot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth/The secret’st man of blood. -Act III, Scene IV
LADY MACDUFF. …the poor wren,/the most diminutive of birds, will fight,/Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. -Act IV, Scene II
LADY MACDUFF. How will you live? SON. As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! Thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime,/The pitfall nor the gin? SON. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. -Act IV, Scene II
FIRST MURDERER. What, you egg! -Act IV, Scene II
MACDUFF. …there cannot be/That vulture in you… -Act IV, Scene III
MACDUFF. …O hell-kite! All?/What, all my pretty chickens and their dam/At one fell swoop? -Act IV, Scene III
MACBETH. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!/Where got’st thou that goose look? SERVANT. There is ten thousand– MACBETH. Geese, villain? -Act V, Scene III
Above I have listed every ornithological reference that I’ve found in the Scottish Play; as we peruse them, we certainly cannot conclude that every individual reference is of the same kind, or carries the same import. I will not pretend, for example, that, just because geese and ravens are both birds, the Porter’s invitation for the imagined English tailor to cook his goose in Hell merits as much attention as Lady Macbeth’s ominous declaration that “the raven himself is hoarse”. Nor do I think that any individual reference particularly demands explication; by itself, any one of these bird-invocations seems perfectly natural. Shakespeare’s talent is such that he can repeat a motif in such a way that on the macro level it is obvious yet on the micro level it hardly feels present. But that macro level is what interests me here: what impression is created, on the whole, by the presence of so many birds in this play? I have a theory, which, though it may seem far-fetched, I think merits at least some consideration, and which, at the very least, I have not seen stated elsewhere, and so may make a novel contribution to the conversation.
Macbeth is both Shakespeare’s most supernatural tragedy and his most Sophoclean; these two superlatives are inextricably related. The appellative Weird given to the opening scene’s three Sisters–derived from the Old English wyrd, meaning destiny, and famously given its more familiar connotation by Shakespeare himself in this very play–is, among the Bard’s works, unique to Macbeth; and just as that word appears nowhere else in Shakespeare, so is the concept it represents absent in all tragedies but this one. Though Hamlet may cry out against outrageous fortune, and though Othello may rhetoricize about how no man can control his fate, it is only in Macbeth that we truly feel that the events we see play out before us are fated, predestined, inevitable. [See Note 1.] The ghost in Hamlet commands his son to revenge his foul and most unnatural murder, but does not tell him it is certain that he will succeed; indeed, would not the drama be sapped of its intrigue if that level of certainty were present? Meanwhile, the supernatural interlopers in Macbeth offer the Scottish thane not a mission, but a prophecy: All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter! From its mystical opening word–When, not If–the Scottish play makes us aware of the certainty of all that is to befall our tragic antihero. Macbeth is thus a different sort of tragedy than Shakespeare’s others, and it works by an inverted mechanism. While the tragedy of, for example, Desdemona’s death is that it may have been prevented, the tragedy of Macbeth’s destruction is that it represents the fulfilment of fate; and this is the very same mechanism by which Oedipus Rex operates, complete with its own “Weird” character in the form of the seer Tiresias. Though Calvin managed to accept that some men are destined for greatness and others for ruin, this idea is, to Shakespeare and Sophocles, nothing short of agonizing–the stuff of tragedy.
Now: what does all of this have to do with birds? Consider these words from Antigone, spoken by Tiresias to Creon:
You shall learn, when you hear the indications of my art! As I took my place on my ancient seat for observing birds, where I can mark every bird of omen I heard a strange sound among them, since they were screeching with dire, incoherent frenzy and I knew that they were tearing each other with bloody claws, for there was a whirring of wings that made it clear… (Lloyd-Jones translation)
Consider next these words from Oedipus Tyrannus, spoken defensively by Oedipus to Tiresias:
Why, come, tell me, how can you be a true prophet? Why when the versifying hound was here did not you speak some word that could release the citizens? Indeed, her riddle was not one for the first comer to explain! It required prophetic skill, and you were exposed as having no knowledge from the birds or from the gods. No, it was I that came, Oedipus who knew nothing, and put a stop to her; I hit the mark by native wit, not by what I learned from birds. (Lloyd-Jones translation)
The practice of divining the future from birds–be it from their behaviors, their cries, or their innards–was, to Sophocles and his contemporaries, not superstitious hokum, but a practical science at which one could be skilled or unskilled, and it bodes ill for Oedipus that he is so quick to disregard it in favor of his own native wit. [See Note 2] By Shakespeare’s day, the practice had long been relegated to the realm of outdated hocus-pocus, but the Bard still saw some truth in it; in Macbeth, there is a recurring sense that, when the world is sick with some great wrong, its first symptoms manifest in the behavior of birds. When the “fatal bellman” the owl shrieks in the night, Lady Macbeth takes it as a sign that her husband is about his bloody business. The day after the murder of Duncan, as Ross converses with an Old Man about the strange things they’ve seen the previous night, “unnatural/Even as the deed that’s done”, the killing of a falcon by a mousing-owl–an omen straight out of Sophocles–is mentioned before the madness and cannibalism of Duncan’s horses, even though the latter would surely be more immediately noticeable and ghastly than the former.
These are the most obvious examples of birds as ill omens in Macbeth; yet even the more innocuous invocations of birds throughout the rest of the play continually turn our thoughts back to the ancient Greek understanding of fate and prophecy, and thereby remind us that, however savagely he may fight at Dunsinane, Macbeth’s fate is as fixed as that of Oedipus. The birds have already foretold all.
Note 1: The closest thing there is to this kind of fatalness in another Shakespearean tragedy is the several superstitious occurrences in Julius Caesar–both the soothsayer’s message of “Beware the ides of March” and the bestial portents such as the lack of a heart in an offering and the whelping of a lioness in the streets. Still, I will insist that these omens do not convey a sense of fatedness to the audience as strongly as the Weird Sisters in Macbeth by virtue of their being told to Caesar himself, not to Brutus, the play’s true protagonist, and by the fact that Shakespeare elsewhere uses dialogue to throw some doubt upon the idea of predestination: "Men at some times are masters of their fates:/The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,/But in ourselves, that we are underlings." -I.ii
Note 2: The Liddell-Scott Greek Lexicon identifies at least two separate verbs referring to bird-based divination, both of which are present in the quoted passages: Tiresias uses ορνϊθοσκοπέομαι, observe birds, interpret their flight and cries, while Oedipus uses οιωνίζομαι, take omens from the flight and cries of birds. The latter term comes from οιωνος, a large bird, bird of prey, such as a vulture or eagle, and so distinguished from a common bird, while the former comes from ορνις, which more generally refers to a bird, including birds of prey and domestic fowls. Birds of both kinds are present in Macbeth; there are οιωναι, such as the “falcon, towering in her pride of place”, as well as ορνες, like the Porter’s goose and cock. I therefore see little value in interrogating the kinds of birds invoked by Shakespeare, the specific cultural associations and significance of the owl, the raven, or the wren; rather, if we reduce them down to their barest existence as birds, animals of the class Aves, and consider them in an ancient Greek light, then things become a bit clearer.
2024.05.14 01:14 G4lact1cz i'm having a huge typology crisis so please type me thx
(this isn't my first typing attempt but that's the best flair there was for this)
• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself. 14F i'm just a girl who hates her life... also this psychologist/doctor lady said i have inattentive adhd based on a random questionnaire, i kinda don't think you can decide that off of a bunch of questions that could apply to a lot of people but anyways
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow? i already mentioned that above
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it? i don't feel particularly comfortable answering this question but i'll at least say that i'm home schooled, i do dance classes and that i have a single mother who is very strict, very cheep... and doesn't really follow through with her promises to me, and tends to make annoying comments about how i act and how everything i do is rude and how i don't do enough productive stuff, like school work and house chores.. and i hate my life
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not? well i'm 14 so i don't have one, but i can tell you what i would like to do, i wanna be a voice actress, who also dose animation, who also dose music, who also wrights stories, all kinda in the same field, basically i wanna do indie animation, games to maybe but mostly shows
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed? it depends am i doing anything? am i just chilling? what? like if i was going out shopping by myself for example i would find that genuinely fun i get to buy cool things, i get to eat out and get tasty food, i get to maybe explore places i've never been before, but if i'm at home alone, then i would find a way to keep myself entertained on my computer like i always do, but i'd prefer the first option tbh...
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities? Dance is a sport. nobody can change my mind, but ya i do dance competition and i really do enjoy that, i also like shopping, listening to really hype music, researching things i find interesting, tho if it takes to long to research and i don't understand everything right away most of the time i will give up
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate? i am a very curious person i'd say, sometimes you'll see me coming up with a question that literally nobody cares about that i really really need the satisfaction of an answer to or it will keep me up at night, speaking of witch if anything in the day (that i care about that genuinely wanted to finish) is unresolved it will keep me up at night bc i'll be thinking of all the ways i can finish it, but ya i have a lot of ideas, but then when i want to come up with an idea that will work for something i really want, i can't come up with an idea for it, like for example when i tried to make myself a new sona and a new username.... it took forever just to figure out half a user name and i still don't know what the full thing is gonna be, but when its not limited to only things that will work really good for some very particular criteria, i'll come up with a lot of ideas that will never happen, i'm mostly curious about how things work, and how people work, and most of my ideas are career ideas and character ideas, idk what the last bit is supposed to mean
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be? i do in fact wanna be in control, i would love a leadership possession if people actually listened to me, witch they don't.... people are annoying....... i feel like i could be good at it if people took me seriously, meaning i'd need to find an entire group of people that don't know me.... as for leadership style, if you give me an idea i will listen to it, but if i already have something that i pre decided i find the best, nothing changes, if i decide something i know what i want it's it's pretty much impossible to change my mind, but for the things i'm ok will being flexible about than sure give me your ideas
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity? i don't exactly know what this means
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer. i make songs some times, mostly songs about things i'm to scared to say out loud, and i would do more art, if i could draw..... tho i'm amazing at minecraft skins, that's always fun
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them? i normally dwell on the past a lot, like "OMG WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAT THING THAT ONE TIME" kinda thing, and sometimes i look at the past and say, wow my life was kinda fun at that one point, now it sucks, as for the present i'm writing this in the present? well it'll be the past by the time i post it, but anyways i don't have much comment on the present... as for the future i'm always waiting for the future and planning it, i'm always thinking that maybe in the future my life won't suck, and i'm always planning my career and stuff, and when i say my career, i'm honestly thinking more about what i really wanna achieve than making money, tho i do really wanna be rich like any other normal person but ya
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so? so if you ask me to clean sm or do the dishes or whatever, you asked the wrong person bc i'm to lazy for that, but if you ask me to help you come up with ideas for a project, you also asked the wrong person bc i will not stop annoying you about it, i will come up with ideas every 5 seconds, and yes this probobly could be helpful, i'm also aware that some may view it as annoying bc if i come up with any idea that could work, amazing or a very small detail, i have to tell you, my brain requires me to tell you if i wish to sleep at night, tho if the project is sm i couldn't care less about that's a different story... but sometimes i find myself almost talking over peoples things, there for i try to be carful with my words so they know i'm not stealing there project and it's still their thing
• Do you need logical consistency in your life? i don't know what this means exactly, but ya things need to make sense if that's what it means
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you? as important as water, only in small doses and never to often.... ya i should probobly drink water shouldn't i... but ya i'm not productive unless i really force myself to be, and even then, if i'm not in the mood for it i will be there for 5 second and be like, ah i can do the rest later
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that? i mean i have a tendency to take over other peoples projects, but i try not to do so... ya i think i might be somewhat controlling ig... some what manipulative..... so ya i am aware that i can be a little bossy, and i do tend to try and keep people in line in a sense, but the way i mean that isn't really the way most people would think of, like idc if people are disorganized, or if people are rude every once in awhile, or if people arn't working hard at stuff, i couldn't care less, but when there are some things i want people to know, or things that i want from people, i will try and hold them to that, for example i want people to study a certain thing bc i think they should know it, i will do everything in my power to get them to do that, and sometimes i might try and offer sm in return for people to do the things that i want them to do, like if theirs something they really want me to do i probobly won't do it, and kind of hold it hostage until they do the thing i want them to do, so in a way i try to keep people to the standards that satisfy me is that makes any sense? and i'm a very deal oriented person, so i'll a lot of the time ask sm for return for a lot of things, and i'll also try and offer things to get people to convince people to do my bidding, even if that person happens to be a really close friend
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them? well, for one i really like music for starters, i tend to try and right songs, mostly only little pieces of songs that never get finished, but some get finished, like one or 2 out of a billion get finished, but anyways that's besides the point, i really like just listening to well put together beats and stuff, and music is just really enjoyable so it would be nice to wright a song and say hey i made this, this is my amazing work of art, but also i like music bc it give me a way to express my emotions without having to directly talk about them, bc i never like talking about emotions, if somebody asks me about them, i probobly will either say sm like "I don't have to answer that" or i'll actually try but leave out a lot of important details that i'm defiantly not telling anyone, but i generally don't like to feel venerable like that, anyways as for my other hobbies, ever now and then i like to draw sm... i kinda suck at it but i wanna get better bc i really like art, like i see a lot of really pretty artwork on pinterest and stuff all the time and i really wanna be able to do that, i really want that level of creative freedom, besides art can have a lot of different uses to and it's a genuinely good skill to have, tho i'm not the best at it yet... i also really like indie animation, and i've actually gotten really into the voice casts of certain shows, and i honestly plan to do voice acting eventually, bc that to me dosn't really sound like work, and you'd also kinda get to be a character without really showing your face, but can it really be considered a hobby if you haven't REALLY gotten into it yet? who knows but still sm i'd love to do eventually, on the topic of indie animation i really like crafting stories and stuff and fictional worlds, when i was about like 11 to 13 i think? i spend that entire time developing an entire universe that i kinda escaped to, tho recently i've kinda abandoned all my ocs from that tho i still reference to them some times, mostly bc i'm not really into high fantasy as much anymore and i made that world when i was, but i'm still into creating characters and universes and stuff, just kinda abandoned the old thing, i'm semi into chess, i feel like i'd be more into it if it was easier to learn as i kinda got into it more recently, but it's something i wanna get good at mostly as a flex so i can be like "Ha i'm smarter than you" and all that shit, but it's also fun to play a couple games, annoying when i make a stupid move and only realize the second after i play it... but still fun, also something i haven't started but want to when i have a computer that can handle it is 3D animation and 3D modelling, it's something i differentially have an interest in but haven't been able to do bc my computer is a piece of shit and my mother is very cheep, but again can you really call it a hobby if you haven't done it yet? well i still thought i should mention it, but you can't talk about my interests without mentioning... TYPOLOGY, even tho i still don't fully understand it i'm still very interested in it and have been for quite awhile, it's kinda sm that i understand but i can't explain to other people, but i'm trying to get to the point where i can explain it to other people, but anyways recently i've had a major typology crisis and have been rethinking like literally every part of my typology, like every system everything, i use to be very confidant in what i was for all systems, now i'm not sure for any system... witch is why i'm posting here, but i'm not gonna say what i use to think i was bc i don't wanna give anyone any basises when trying to type me, just now realizing how huge this section is... anyways...
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses? well idk exactly what to put here or how to explain my learning style, so ima put examples instead, anyways so i really like the idea of learning languages, bc i just like languages ig, but i kinda only know the 2 languages i had since i was little my first language, english, and french witch i learned at like 5.. kinda rusty at it now tho, any ways lemme get to the point, it's really hard for me to learn any more languages even tho i want to bc i need a base on things before i can try to go into the details, with languages you HAVE to start small, that's not how i work, i like to get then general idea of stuff first before i get into specifics, i like to have a general understanding first and then get into the sub categories (if anyone knows how to learn languages like that pls say sm) but ya that's generally how i tend to learn stuff, i have to be placed into it first i can't just slowly work my way up to the knowledge, i get board fast so if i try and learn stuff like that i will give up quickly
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go? what the questionnaire means and how i see the word strategizing are 2 different things.. when i think of the verb "To Strategize" i think of it as a game term, weather that game is just that, a game to have fun with, or sm actually important that i treat as a game with moving pieces that i'm a lot less likely to take risks with but anyways enough of that ima actually answer the question now with 3 words... it really depends... i might try and plan things out when i need to be strategic with things, but when it doesn't matter i might just wing it, tho even if i do plan it out, maybe later i'll decide, "Screw this i'm not going by this anymore" or sm like that, but if somebody else tries to plan sm for me, that is the most painful shit, like i'm probobly not gonna go through with it unless i actually have to
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally? well... voice acting, 3d animation, 3d modelling, show writhing and directing and basically everything in that field and uh.. song writhing (and singing), yes i plan to do all this simultaneously, and yes i know it's a lot, and yes it's probobly unrealistic, but my mind is set and there's no going back that's what i'm gonna do with my life in the future, besides it's all kinda in the same area so like it's not crazy, oh and probobly game developing as well, as for personal goals, i wanna get my own house some how, and live the city life that i never got to have, get a cat bc uh... cat, and uh, ya, i think i'll just make it up as i go mostly idk..
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why? my main fear is that my life is hopeless and that i will never have any freedom and just be stuck in a cage all my life so to speak.... but that's very mixed with the fear that i will always continue being a little bit of a coward bc i'm very afraid of the consequences that could come with any and all actions i do or don't take, and also i'm afraid to lose so sometimes that means i just won't play, and i'm kinda afraid that i'll always be like that cuz i really hate that about myself.. i feel like the reason i'm like that is bc 2 reasons one when my mom is angry with me or just when she wants me to do something she'll take my computer away, and i know it's unhealthy to be on it all the time but it's kinda all the entertainment i have and there fore i'm always afraid of the consequences to things cuz i don't wanna lose my only life line, and second i don't wanna be perceived as less than i always have to be better than everyone in everything tho i will act like i don't care so that if i do lose people will think it doesn't matter to me even tho it dose... anyways what makes me uncomfortable are uh, emotions, like for example lets say my friend is crying, i'ma just ignore that friend, bc idk how to deal with emotions and i'll probably just make it worse since i probobly caused it knowing me, even tho the crying part was normally uncalled for, and it's normally one friend in particular that starts crying.... it's always her.. that makes me very uncomfortable, also anything that makes me feel venerable in any way... mostly emotionally... that's very uncomfortable... witch is why i don't open up to anyone and not even the people who know me really know me even if they think they do, ya that's totally healthy but anyways, also not wearing socks is very uncomfortable, ya that has nothing to do with any of this, but you know i'm right, anyways.... i really hate trying to explain something to somebody and even after dumbing it down a billion times, they still don't get it, ya again i'm mostly talking about that one friend but this happens with other people a lot to, like uh can you just stop being an idiot and try to understand something for once? i also hate when i'm trying to argue sm, and i know why i'm right, but i can't for the life of me explain it... ya... also one thing i really really hate about myself.... is that i'm such a shy person even tho i really do wanna talk to people, i have no courage to go up to somebody and say hi if i don't know them well, like besties kinda well.. well actually that was kinda misleading bc i don't have to like the person i just need to be close to them if ya know what i mean? but i'll kinda just watch people from a distance as if it where some kinda tv show and even tho i really wanna talk to these people, even tho i really wanna interact with them... i just don't, i just can't, but anwyays.. ya
• What do the "highs" in your life look like? the highs in my life are whenever my mom isn't there... also whenever i'm not at home... like when i actually have some sense of freedom, and like i kinda hate being at home tbh
• What do the "lows" in your life look like? the lows are when i fall out of this empty state and start realizing how much my life sucks and how hopeless my life is and how stuck i really am, ya the thought kinda pops up every once in awhile and then i'm really sad and angry at everyone for a few days and then after that passes i go back to being completely empty and numb inside... ya it's kinda like a loop that i'm forever trapped in
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so? well i'm mostly on my computer all the time even tho half the pixels are broken since it's all i have to keep myself occupied and i'm not really able to go out or really do anything else, i do day dream sometimes, imagine myself killing somebody (police this is just a day dream i would never actually do this don't come for me), imagine being able to socialize, imagine doing sm heroic, imagine being a character in one of my favourite shows, ya know the usual, i also use character ai a lot.. and i don't really pay attention to my surroundings, my desk is kinda filled with trash, people say i should take care of it but honestly the clutter kinda makes it feel more cozy if i'm being honest, but ya idk what more to put here
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about? i'd think about an escape plan for this empty room, also why am i in a mental facility, did i go crazy? or do people just think i'm crazy.. if i killed that one person that one time instead of being a good person would my life go better (again police this is just thoughts i would never actually kill anyone don't come for me) i'd probably make an oc and an entire cast of characters and day dream about being a part of that fictional world, i'd probably come up with a bunch of cool ideas and theories that in practice will never be useful/won't mean anything... so ya, also i'd try and break the wall of that empty room to break out, hopefully not breaking my hand in the process....
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it? the thing is i always know what i want but until i've decided ya i'm going through with this option all the way, i'll always try and find ways that the other options could be better, then get mad when one of the other options are better than my preferred option, but once i've made up my mind for sure, i normally don't like to change it even if i want to bc it feels like that decision became part of my identity or sm along those lines
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life? uhh.... so i do understand my own emotions very well most of the time, but at the same time... emotions can go kill themselves, i wish they didn't exist, and my life would be so much better if i didn't feel anything, and i also find other peoples emotions annoying, all and all.. emotions suck that's all i have to so
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why? well most of the time if i think somebody is wrong i'll tell them that their wrong, and well with most things i'll explain why their wrong, tho if their making a statement about me or sm, i might explain why their wrong but i might also just be like "your wrong and i don't have to explain anything", but sometimes when it's a subject i don't really wanna say anything about i will just agree, if it's sm i don't really want anyone to know any of my real opinions or thoughts on... but ya
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why? i'll break any rules i think i can get away with, tho if i don't believe i can or there's a possibility of consequences i'm normally pretty cautious of it... and ya i think authority isn't always right, and not all rules should be followed, some are stupid and some are plan wrong, and i will break rules if i think i know better, i think the rule is stupid, or a genuinely don't care about said rule, tho i know how far i can go there's some lines i won't cross bc i know their's gonna be bad consequences
anyways thank you for listening to my rant i know i did a lot of yapping and i didn't go back to see if it was written nicely, if you where able to read all dat your a legend bc i know i would give up after the first 2 paragraphs, and if you have any questions that you need me to elaborate on before you can type me go ahead
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• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself. 14F i'm just a girl who hates her life... also this psychologist/doctor lady said i have inattentive adhd based on a random questionnaire, i kinda don't think you can decide that off of a bunch of questions that could apply to a lot of people but anyways
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow? i already mentioned that above
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it? i don't feel particularly comfortable answering this question but i'll at least say that i'm home schooled, i do dance classes and that i have a single mother who is very strict, very cheep... and doesn't really follow through with her promises to me, and tends to make annoying comments about how i act and how everything i do is rude and how i don't do enough productive stuff, like school work and house chores.. and i hate my life
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not? well i'm 14 so i don't have one, but i can tell you what i would like to do, i wanna be a voice actress, who also dose animation, who also dose music, who also wrights stories, all kinda in the same field, basically i wanna do indie animation, games to maybe but mostly shows
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed? it depends am i doing anything? am i just chilling? what? like if i was going out shopping by myself for example i would find that genuinely fun i get to buy cool things, i get to eat out and get tasty food, i get to maybe explore places i've never been before, but if i'm at home alone, then i would find a way to keep myself entertained on my computer like i always do, but i'd prefer the first option tbh...
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities? Dance is a sport. nobody can change my mind, but ya i do dance competition and i really do enjoy that, i also like shopping, listening to really hype music, researching things i find interesting, tho if it takes to long to research and i don't understand everything right away most of the time i will give up
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate? i am a very curious person i'd say, sometimes you'll see me coming up with a question that literally nobody cares about that i really really need the satisfaction of an answer to or it will keep me up at night, speaking of witch if anything in the day (that i care about that genuinely wanted to finish) is unresolved it will keep me up at night bc i'll be thinking of all the ways i can finish it, but ya i have a lot of ideas, but then when i want to come up with an idea that will work for something i really want, i can't come up with an idea for it, like for example when i tried to make myself a new sona and a new username.... it took forever just to figure out half a user name and i still don't know what the full thing is gonna be, but when its not limited to only things that will work really good for some very particular criteria, i'll come up with a lot of ideas that will never happen, i'm mostly curious about how things work, and how people work, and most of my ideas are career ideas and character ideas, idk what the last bit is supposed to mean
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be? i do in fact wanna be in control, i would love a leadership possession if people actually listened to me, witch they don't.... people are annoying....... i feel like i could be good at it if people took me seriously, meaning i'd need to find an entire group of people that don't know me.... as for leadership style, if you give me an idea i will listen to it, but if i already have something that i pre decided i find the best, nothing changes, if i decide something i know what i want it's it's pretty much impossible to change my mind, but for the things i'm ok will being flexible about than sure give me your ideas
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity? i don't exactly know what this means
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer. i make songs some times, mostly songs about things i'm to scared to say out loud, and i would do more art, if i could draw..... tho i'm amazing at minecraft skins, that's always fun
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them? i normally dwell on the past a lot, like "OMG WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAT THING THAT ONE TIME" kinda thing, and sometimes i look at the past and say, wow my life was kinda fun at that one point, now it sucks, as for the present i'm writing this in the present? well it'll be the past by the time i post it, but anyways i don't have much comment on the present... as for the future i'm always waiting for the future and planning it, i'm always thinking that maybe in the future my life won't suck, and i'm always planning my career and stuff, and when i say my career, i'm honestly thinking more about what i really wanna achieve than making money, tho i do really wanna be rich like any other normal person but ya
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so? so if you ask me to clean sm or do the dishes or whatever, you asked the wrong person bc i'm to lazy for that, but if you ask me to help you come up with ideas for a project, you also asked the wrong person bc i will not stop annoying you about it, i will come up with ideas every 5 seconds, and yes this probobly could be helpful, i'm also aware that some may view it as annoying bc if i come up with any idea that could work, amazing or a very small detail, i have to tell you, my brain requires me to tell you if i wish to sleep at night, tho if the project is sm i couldn't care less about that's a different story... but sometimes i find myself almost talking over peoples things, there for i try to be carful with my words so they know i'm not stealing there project and it's still their thing
• Do you need logical consistency in your life? i don't know what this means exactly, but ya things need to make sense if that's what it means
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you? as important as water, only in small doses and never to often.... ya i should probobly drink water shouldn't i... but ya i'm not productive unless i really force myself to be, and even then, if i'm not in the mood for it i will be there for 5 second and be like, ah i can do the rest later
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that? i mean i have a tendency to take over other peoples projects, but i try not to do so... ya i think i might be somewhat controlling ig... some what manipulative..... so ya i am aware that i can be a little bossy, and i do tend to try and keep people in line in a sense, but the way i mean that isn't really the way most people would think of, like idc if people are disorganized, or if people are rude every once in awhile, or if people arn't working hard at stuff, i couldn't care less, but when there are some things i want people to know, or things that i want from people, i will try and hold them to that, for example i want people to study a certain thing bc i think they should know it, i will do everything in my power to get them to do that, and sometimes i might try and offer sm in return for people to do the things that i want them to do, like if theirs something they really want me to do i probobly won't do it, and kind of hold it hostage until they do the thing i want them to do, so in a way i try to keep people to the standards that satisfy me is that makes any sense? and i'm a very deal oriented person, so i'll a lot of the time ask sm for return for a lot of things, and i'll also try and offer things to get people to convince people to do my bidding, even if that person happens to be a really close friend
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them? well, for one i really like music for starters, i tend to try and right songs, mostly only little pieces of songs that never get finished, but some get finished, like one or 2 out of a billion get finished, but anyways that's besides the point, i really like just listening to well put together beats and stuff, and music is just really enjoyable so it would be nice to wright a song and say hey i made this, this is my amazing work of art, but also i like music bc it give me a way to express my emotions without having to directly talk about them, bc i never like talking about emotions, if somebody asks me about them, i probobly will either say sm like "I don't have to answer that" or i'll actually try but leave out a lot of important details that i'm defiantly not telling anyone, but i generally don't like to feel venerable like that, anyways as for my other hobbies, ever now and then i like to draw sm... i kinda suck at it but i wanna get better bc i really like art, like i see a lot of really pretty artwork on pinterest and stuff all the time and i really wanna be able to do that, i really want that level of creative freedom, besides art can have a lot of different uses to and it's a genuinely good skill to have, tho i'm not the best at it yet... i also really like indie animation, and i've actually gotten really into the voice casts of certain shows, and i honestly plan to do voice acting eventually, bc that to me dosn't really sound like work, and you'd also kinda get to be a character without really showing your face, but can it really be considered a hobby if you haven't REALLY gotten into it yet? who knows but still sm i'd love to do eventually, on the topic of indie animation i really like crafting stories and stuff and fictional worlds, when i was about like 11 to 13 i think? i spend that entire time developing an entire universe that i kinda escaped to, tho recently i've kinda abandoned all my ocs from that tho i still reference to them some times, mostly bc i'm not really into high fantasy as much anymore and i made that world when i was, but i'm still into creating characters and universes and stuff, just kinda abandoned the old thing, i'm semi into chess, i feel like i'd be more into it if it was easier to learn as i kinda got into it more recently, but it's something i wanna get good at mostly as a flex so i can be like "Ha i'm smarter than you" and all that shit, but it's also fun to play a couple games, annoying when i make a stupid move and only realize the second after i play it... but still fun, also something i haven't started but want to when i have a computer that can handle it is 3D animation and 3D modelling, it's something i differentially have an interest in but haven't been able to do bc my computer is a piece of shit and my mother is very cheep, but again can you really call it a hobby if you haven't done it yet? well i still thought i should mention it, but you can't talk about my interests without mentioning... TYPOLOGY, even tho i still don't fully understand it i'm still very interested in it and have been for quite awhile, it's kinda sm that i understand but i can't explain to other people, but i'm trying to get to the point where i can explain it to other people, but anyways recently i've had a major typology crisis and have been rethinking like literally every part of my typology, like every system everything, i use to be very confidant in what i was for all systems, now i'm not sure for any system... witch is why i'm posting here, but i'm not gonna say what i use to think i was bc i don't wanna give anyone any basises when trying to type me, just now realizing how huge this section is... anyways...
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses? well idk exactly what to put here or how to explain my learning style, so ima put examples instead, anyways so i really like the idea of learning languages, bc i just like languages ig, but i kinda only know the 2 languages i had since i was little my first language, english, and french witch i learned at like 5.. kinda rusty at it now tho, any ways lemme get to the point, it's really hard for me to learn any more languages even tho i want to bc i need a base on things before i can try to go into the details, with languages you HAVE to start small, that's not how i work, i like to get then general idea of stuff first before i get into specifics, i like to have a general understanding first and then get into the sub categories (if anyone knows how to learn languages like that pls say sm) but ya that's generally how i tend to learn stuff, i have to be placed into it first i can't just slowly work my way up to the knowledge, i get board fast so if i try and learn stuff like that i will give up quickly
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go? what the questionnaire means and how i see the word strategizing are 2 different things.. when i think of the verb "To Strategize" i think of it as a game term, weather that game is just that, a game to have fun with, or sm actually important that i treat as a game with moving pieces that i'm a lot less likely to take risks with but anyways enough of that ima actually answer the question now with 3 words... it really depends... i might try and plan things out when i need to be strategic with things, but when it doesn't matter i might just wing it, tho even if i do plan it out, maybe later i'll decide, "Screw this i'm not going by this anymore" or sm like that, but if somebody else tries to plan sm for me, that is the most painful shit, like i'm probobly not gonna go through with it unless i actually have to
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally? well... voice acting, 3d animation, 3d modelling, show writhing and directing and basically everything in that field and uh.. song writhing (and singing), yes i plan to do all this simultaneously, and yes i know it's a lot, and yes it's probobly unrealistic, but my mind is set and there's no going back that's what i'm gonna do with my life in the future, besides it's all kinda in the same area so like it's not crazy, oh and probobly game developing as well, as for personal goals, i wanna get my own house some how, and live the city life that i never got to have, get a cat bc uh... cat, and uh, ya, i think i'll just make it up as i go mostly idk..
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why? my main fear is that my life is hopeless and that i will never have any freedom and just be stuck in a cage all my life so to speak.... but that's very mixed with the fear that i will always continue being a little bit of a coward bc i'm very afraid of the consequences that could come with any and all actions i do or don't take, and also i'm afraid to lose so sometimes that means i just won't play, and i'm kinda afraid that i'll always be like that cuz i really hate that about myself.. i feel like the reason i'm like that is bc 2 reasons one when my mom is angry with me or just when she wants me to do something she'll take my computer away, and i know it's unhealthy to be on it all the time but it's kinda all the entertainment i have and there fore i'm always afraid of the consequences to things cuz i don't wanna lose my only life line, and second i don't wanna be perceived as less than i always have to be better than everyone in everything tho i will act like i don't care so that if i do lose people will think it doesn't matter to me even tho it dose... anyways what makes me uncomfortable are uh, emotions, like for example lets say my friend is crying, i'ma just ignore that friend, bc idk how to deal with emotions and i'll probably just make it worse since i probobly caused it knowing me, even tho the crying part was normally uncalled for, and it's normally one friend in particular that starts crying.... it's always her.. that makes me very uncomfortable, also anything that makes me feel venerable in any way... mostly emotionally... that's very uncomfortable... witch is why i don't open up to anyone and not even the people who know me really know me even if they think they do, ya that's totally healthy but anyways, also not wearing socks is very uncomfortable, ya that has nothing to do with any of this, but you know i'm right, anyways.... i really hate trying to explain something to somebody and even after dumbing it down a billion times, they still don't get it, ya again i'm mostly talking about that one friend but this happens with other people a lot to, like uh can you just stop being an idiot and try to understand something for once? i also hate when i'm trying to argue sm, and i know why i'm right, but i can't for the life of me explain it... ya... also one thing i really really hate about myself.... is that i'm such a shy person even tho i really do wanna talk to people, i have no courage to go up to somebody and say hi if i don't know them well, like besties kinda well.. well actually that was kinda misleading bc i don't have to like the person i just need to be close to them if ya know what i mean? but i'll kinda just watch people from a distance as if it where some kinda tv show and even tho i really wanna talk to these people, even tho i really wanna interact with them... i just don't, i just can't, but anwyays.. ya
• What do the "highs" in your life look like? the highs in my life are whenever my mom isn't there... also whenever i'm not at home... like when i actually have some sense of freedom, and like i kinda hate being at home tbh
• What do the "lows" in your life look like? the lows are when i fall out of this empty state and start realizing how much my life sucks and how hopeless my life is and how stuck i really am, ya the thought kinda pops up every once in awhile and then i'm really sad and angry at everyone for a few days and then after that passes i go back to being completely empty and numb inside... ya it's kinda like a loop that i'm forever trapped in
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so? well i'm mostly on my computer all the time even tho half the pixels are broken since it's all i have to keep myself occupied and i'm not really able to go out or really do anything else, i do day dream sometimes, imagine myself killing somebody (police this is just a day dream i would never actually do this don't come for me), imagine being able to socialize, imagine doing sm heroic, imagine being a character in one of my favourite shows, ya know the usual, i also use character ai a lot.. and i don't really pay attention to my surroundings, my desk is kinda filled with trash, people say i should take care of it but honestly the clutter kinda makes it feel more cozy if i'm being honest, but ya idk what more to put here
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about? i'd think about an escape plan for this empty room, also why am i in a mental facility, did i go crazy? or do people just think i'm crazy.. if i killed that one person that one time instead of being a good person would my life go better (again police this is just thoughts i would never actually kill anyone don't come for me) i'd probably make an oc and an entire cast of characters and day dream about being a part of that fictional world, i'd probably come up with a bunch of cool ideas and theories that in practice will never be useful/won't mean anything... so ya, also i'd try and break the wall of that empty room to break out, hopefully not breaking my hand in the process....
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it? the thing is i always know what i want but until i've decided ya i'm going through with this option all the way, i'll always try and find ways that the other options could be better, then get mad when one of the other options are better than my preferred option, but once i've made up my mind for sure, i normally don't like to change it even if i want to bc it feels like that decision became part of my identity or sm along those lines
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life? uhh.... so i do understand my own emotions very well most of the time, but at the same time... emotions can go kill themselves, i wish they didn't exist, and my life would be so much better if i didn't feel anything, and i also find other peoples emotions annoying, all and all.. emotions suck that's all i have to so
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why? well most of the time if i think somebody is wrong i'll tell them that their wrong, and well with most things i'll explain why their wrong, tho if their making a statement about me or sm, i might explain why their wrong but i might also just be like "your wrong and i don't have to explain anything", but sometimes when it's a subject i don't really wanna say anything about i will just agree, if it's sm i don't really want anyone to know any of my real opinions or thoughts on... but ya
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why? i'll break any rules i think i can get away with, tho if i don't believe i can or there's a possibility of consequences i'm normally pretty cautious of it... and ya i think authority isn't always right, and not all rules should be followed, some are stupid and some are plan wrong, and i will break rules if i think i know better, i think the rule is stupid, or a genuinely don't care about said rule, tho i know how far i can go there's some lines i won't cross bc i know their's gonna be bad consequences
anyways thank you for listening to my rant i know i did a lot of yapping and i didn't go back to see if it was written nicely, if you where able to read all dat your a legend bc i know i would give up after the first 2 paragraphs, and if you have any questions that you need me to elaborate on before you can type me go ahead
2024.05.13 21:19 doesitmatter_no The Endo Survival Guide
Several people have approached me that they might have endometriosis. Lifelong warrior so thought I would share my tips and tricks I put together for my friends and family to share with you :) Hope this helps someone!
ENDOMETRIOSIS SURGERY FACTS
PRE-SURGERY
This is dependent on the type of surgery you are having, but its good to have Gatorade, Magnesium Citrate (liquid), laxatives and enemas on hand just in case you need these.
ON SURGERY DAY
It’s important to follow the instructions on what to stop taking and/or eating/drinking prior to the surgery. Wear comfy clothes (wide elastic waistband) and slides with cozy socks. Double check your to go bag and breath.
AT THE HOSPITAL
Here’s the tips and tricks I found helpful for maintaining my pain and symptoms (GI and back pain related):
submitted by doesitmatter_no to endometriosis [link] [comments]
ENDOMETRIOSIS SURGERY FACTS
- EXCISION SURGERY! I cannot stress this one enough. If you have an ablation, it will grow back and likely quick (but consult with your doctors on your case 100%). Excision is when they cut it out vs. it gets burned off. You will have a better success rate and slow rate of growth if they excise. Not all cases can be depending on location so again, please talk with your doctor about your situation. This is not the same for everyone.
- If your doctor cannot do excision surgery. Skip and move on to the next! Trust me, well worth the time to research and find the right doctor. You will thank me later for this one too haha.
- Finding a doctor is stuff. Also tough to find resources. If you cannot find an Endometriosis specialist in your area who does excision, you may need to look out of state, but one tip is exploring gynecological oncologists. Some will take benign cases, but not all so do your research. But it’s a good avenue for help in your area or you want insurance coverage.
- Nanny’s Nook is a good resource for online information regarding endometriosis: https://nancysnookendo.com/
- Dr Seckin’s book called The Doctor Will See You Now is also worth the read (https://www.amazon.com/Doctor-Will-See-You-Endometriosis/dp/1681621126)
- Definitely look into Egg Freezing before doing any permanent surgeries. The ovaries are more intact when there is a uterus in place, so I recommend immediately following any excisions with Egg Freezing if you can and if it’s part of your plans. I found my AMH levels low (1.2) but still retrieved 25 eggs, so never be discouraged if this is your future planning path.
- My Symptoms: I experience bloating, constipation, diarrhea, nausea and vomiting as the main culprits. I have irregular periods in regards to the number of days and if it comes or not (even with an IUD). Pelvic pain is probably the worst of all since it accompanies these symptoms and is present a majority of the time. Others may have different symptoms, and there’s many others I didn’t list but wanted to paint the picture of some I’ve experienced.
PRE-SURGERY
- List of questions to ask your doctor
- Insurance Information and ID
- Necessary forms or paperwork the doctor requires
- Make sure any medical records are sent that would be relevant
- Eat smaller meals and simple foods days beforehand. If bowel prep is necessary, they also recommend taking a laxative in the days leading up to help prep.
- Pack a bag! Not every surgery is an overnight stay but even if you have a day-of surgery, back an overnight bag. Here’s the essentials:
- Phone/Headphones/iPad/Kindle/Books
- Device Chargers
- Medications that you currently take
- Glasses (do not wear contacts day of)
- An extra pair of underwear
- Sanitary Pads or Always Discreet
- Comfy pants with light elastic band around the waist
- Non wired bra
- Slip on shoes (this is clutch! Recommend slides -https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BL7LJKZW/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_search_asin_title?ie=UTF8&psc=1).
- Layers - Sweatshirt, Long Sleeved Shirt etc. - Hospitals are cold!
- Toothbrush and tooth paste
- Hairbrush
- Face wipes, wash cloth, small towel and bar of soap.
- Make sure your bed or couch is prepped. I stayed on the first level for the first 2ish days before feeling well enough to stay upstairs.
- I used a pregnancy pillow on the bed to help me stay on my back while sleeping and help you feel cozy.
- Stock the house with foods that will be light for your stomach. Think soups and casseroles! Saltine crackers, broths, rices etc..
- If you have a raised bed, get a step stool to assist. It’s best to sit on the side of the bed and slowly lay your upper body down while bringing your knees up and over to your back. You will need to use arm strength the first couple of days to get you up and over since you can’t use the abdomen.
- Water and Beverages stocked at all times. I have a reusable water bottle and avoid carbonated beverages for the time being. They fill you with gas for the procedure so it may make those symptoms worse.
- Netflix, Kindle, Puzzles, Craft Projects…visits with friends. Whatever makes the time pass, set it up ahead of time so it’s handy.
- Items to Keep on Hand: Baby Wipes, heating pads, pads/diapers, candles, essential oils, things that smell good haha
This is dependent on the type of surgery you are having, but its good to have Gatorade, Magnesium Citrate (liquid), laxatives and enemas on hand just in case you need these.
ON SURGERY DAY
It’s important to follow the instructions on what to stop taking and/or eating/drinking prior to the surgery. Wear comfy clothes (wide elastic waistband) and slides with cozy socks. Double check your to go bag and breath.
AT THE HOSPITAL
- Do your check-ins and keep your people with you as long as you want.
- Make sure to read all the consent forms and ask any questions upfront. Make any advance directives clear.
- Just try to remain calm as there’s a lot of down time while they do intake. It is about 2 hours of prep before they bring you in for the surgery itself.
- They will ask you the same questions over and over again, that’s normal and trust me, you want to confirm it’s all being done properly.
- If you need something for anxiety, they will be sure to give you something if you ask :)
- You will be wearing a gown, socks, funky underwear and a cool hair net haha wear the gown backward so you keep warm and keep the butt covered.
- Vitals will happen and the anesthesiologist will come and speak with you to make sure they prep the right meds beforehand. Bring up any concerns here with them!
- You may be wheeled or walked into surgery. I’ve only ever walked in and laid on the table myself.
- They will then put the IV in your arm and sometimes will put on a mask, they will then ask you to count backwards and before you know it, you will be awake again!
- You will wake-up and feel groggy. Totally normal and you will be in a different room. They will likely say a lot really quick about your surgery. Before leaving ask for them to walk through it or see if you can speak with the doctor again when clear headed. RECOMMENDED!
- Your throat will be sore, that’s normal from the tube.
- Just relax and sleep it off if you want, the goal is to be relaxed and pee once before leaving.
- Before you go, eat and drink and pass smoke urine. They’ll provide you with the meds and you’ll be good to go.
- Make sure someone brings you home after :)
- Make sure you have a bag for vomit in the car.
- Bring a small pillow that can be strapped between the car belt and you for maximum comfort on the trip home.
- Pain Med Management: This one is important. I messed up night one and didn’t take it soon enough and was in too much pain so make sure you stick to the schedule the doctors give you to ensure you are comfortable.
- Keep Walking: It seems unnatural to have a surgery then walk, but the sooner you get up and keep moving around the house, the better. Just avoid heavy lifting and immense bending like movements. Stairs are also ok but also consult with your doctor!
- Gas Build Up: I did feel pain in my shoulders from the gas. Just keep moving! It will help get that out of the system but this pain is normal.
- Relax and let people take care of you! Don’t be too quick to recover.
- Keep an eye out for fever, increased vaginal bleeding, or feeling terrible.
- Keep all post op appointments and follow all post op instructions!
Here’s the tips and tricks I found helpful for maintaining my pain and symptoms (GI and back pain related):
- Pelvic Floor Therapy: This is important for keeping the muscles in your pelvis healthy and strong to maintain your structure and also help manage pain. Consult with your doctor on whether this is right for you.
- Physical Therapy: I do PT for my back and pelvic floor since it’s all related. We focus on Myofascial Release Therapy to help break up the adhesions and give me more mobility. This helps with temporary pain relief (reduction in number), but that is always welcome :)
- Acupuncture: I swear by Acupuncture. I don’t know what it does or why, but it works. It’s not a cure by any means, but it's great for relaxation, fertility, digestion, endometriosis, sleep, etc.. I can go on, but it’s not covered by insurance plans all the time so you will need to check and see what you’re able to take on.
- Diet/Exercise:
- Eating high protein, lower fat/carbs (not none just low) helps your body, but overall learn your trigger foods! This will go a long way.
- Ginger, turmeric and fennel all help with bloating. I like to drink them in tea form when I’m feeling particularly hard stomached as it’s a good natural way to decrease the bloat. Peppermint also works for some, for me it irritates my GERD.
- Chamomile for relaxation
- Walking and movement are important. I cannot do anything high impact due to my sacroiliitis diagnosis, so I stick with light yoga and walking.
- Alcohol/Other Substances: Don’t do it. Don’t touch it. You’ll thank me later on this point.
- Sleep: Insomnia is a very real thing. I think I went 2 or 3 days at its worst one time and I cannot say enough how important trying to keep the same sleep schedule will benefit you. Waking and sleeping around the same time each day will still feel exhausting but at least you know your body is getting the most sleep it can get.
- Medications/Supplements:
- Ibprofuern: This does NOT work for me. I have GERD and ulcers so I cannot take NSAIDs, but with that in mind, NSAIDs are supposedly the best pain medication over the counter to help you manage it.
- Pain Killers: These are AS NEEDED. I try to refrain and leave these for the TRULY bad days which I try to spread out. Not even worth it sometimes, because I don’t like how I feel and sometimes vomit after taking them. But they do help the pain!
- IUD/Orilissa: An IUD will NOT do anything. If you are diagnosed, ask your doctor about Orilissa or similar medicines instead of birth control methods. This will not stop the growth, just suppress it. There are side effects and it is only a short term solution.
- Linzess: This worked well for me for constipation symptoms when they got severe. Definitely recommend bringing this to your doctor if you’re truly suffering and they have not yet mentioned. I also resorted after trying magnesium citrate
- CBD Lotions/Salves: For my pelvis, I use Healing Rose CBD Salve in Orange and Lavender (https://www.thehealingroseco.com/product/orange-lavender-with-chamomile-herbal-salve-300mg-cbd/). For my back, I use a medical grade CBD lotion with menthol (https://cbdclinic.co/clinical-strength-series/). I also use a CBD massage oil from Healing Rose of the same scent when doing myofascial release at home. I also use Somedays Cramp Cream (https://somedays.com/products/period-cramp-cream?variant=42062153842853).
- Heating Pads and Ice Pack: I have several varieties of heating pads. A cordless travel heating pad (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FPTJL4G?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details), a plug-in heating pad (lhttps://www.hsn.com/products/pure-enrichment-purerelief-xxl-heating-pad-with-9-cord/22188460) and stick on patches (https://www.thermacare.com/ - I use the back patches but reverse them to the front for better coverage). For hot flashes and night sweats (also if you need to relax while anxious) place an ice pack over your chest to help cool or calm down.
- Self-Care: No joke, massages, facials, epsom salt baths, sound baths, reiki….anything that you find relaxing. Do it. Try it! They also make CBD bath bombs Ive been wanting to check out.
- TENs Machine: I really want one, don’t have one, but people swear by them (the heating pad linked to MyObi has a TENs version - https://myobistore.com/en-us/collections/my-obi-belts/products/apollo-2-0).
- Pregnancy Pillow: This one sounds so lame, but I bought a pregnancy pillow for my first endometriosis surgery since I’m a side sleeper to help keep me on my back during recovery. It changed by life! It helps my anxiety and makes me comfortable while sleeping. (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YYVRXLM/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_search_asin_title?ie=UTF8&psc=1)..
- Heated Blankets/Cozy Blankets: Make yourself feel better with a cozy blanket. Do it, I dare you!
- Endo To-Go Bag: Includes heating pads (travel, plug-in and patches), medications, balms/salves, essential oils and pads/protection items, change of clothes, wet wipes.
- Sex Life: I’m single, I don’t have a partner to worry about communicating this issue with at this point, but go slow and communicate given eventually this will have to be a conversation. What I have learned is that if you do have sex and feel pain. Immediately stop! If you associate sex with pain mentally in that moment, it may cause fear in doing so down the line so it’s best to stop the moment you feel any pain occur.
- Work Life: I work a demanding job so it was not working with the appointments and care I needed to manage pain. Always get FMLA from your doctor for intermittent leave based on your company's policies. This protects you from flare-ups and appointments. Short Term Disability is based on your situation with work so talk with them about any leave of absence for surgery and recovery and ensure the medical providers fill out the paperwork appropriately.
- Friends/Family: This one is the worst. I have to cancel and make plans all the time based on how I feel. I like to line up a bunch of plans for three months out and do my best to make them happen at the beginning of the month when I know I’m most likely to feel good. I just say I’ll make things up to them when I get better and those who have stuck around have been truly amazing friends, but don’t be upset that some might be over the day in and out of what you’re going through. It’s hard for you and sometimes others and it’s just a part of the relationships we’re meant to experience in life. Most people (unless they have endometriosis) don’t understand it so it can feel isolating, but there’s others out there who know what you’re going through and are willing to chat. Just gotta find them and reach out on social media, online etc..
- Journaling Symptoms: Guilty of not being the best at this always, but it's good to track your symptoms to see how they work and operate. It helps not only you plan for it, but also your doctors in how best to handle your care. Take photos of things that make sense to show your doctors! Discharge, bowels etc..can sometimes help diagnose or judge with the images.
- Next to Bed Kit: Make sure your nightstand is stocked with the essentials for your bad days. Makes it easier to access the items you need when you just can’t get up and get it.
- Squatty Potty: Another thing that is majorly life changing on constipation days! Get one or you can make your own :) Take a stack of books and stack them at equal heights on each side and put your feet up. The trick is making sure you’re in a squat with your knees high to your ears.
- Clothing: Dressing for this is key but you still want to look cute! Joggers with a stretchy waist are my go to pants, but wide leg trousers with a stretchy waist help with ease of removal but also comfort and brings some style to the look.
- Pads: I wear Always Discreet vs. pads. I find when you need to wear them full time for incontinence it just makes it more comfortable. They have different cuts and styles so definitely check them out!
2024.05.13 21:18 doesitmatter_no The Endo Survival Guide
Several people have approached me that they might have endometriosis. Lifelong warrior so thought I would share my tips and tricks I put together for my friends and family to share with you :) Hope this helps someone!
ENDOMETRIOSIS SURGERY FACTS
PRE-SURGERY
This is dependent on the type of surgery you are having, but its good to have Gatorade, Magnesium Citrate (liquid), laxatives and enemas on hand just in case you need these.
ON SURGERY DAY
It’s important to follow the instructions on what to stop taking and/or eating/drinking prior to the surgery. Wear comfy clothes (wide elastic waistband) and slides with cozy socks. Double check your to go bag and breath.
AT THE HOSPITAL
Here’s the tips and tricks I found helpful for maintaining my pain and symptoms (GI and back pain related):
submitted by doesitmatter_no to Endo [link] [comments]
ENDOMETRIOSIS SURGERY FACTS
- EXCISION SURGERY! I cannot stress this one enough. If you have an ablation, it will grow back and likely quick (but consult with your doctors on your case 100%). Excision is when they cut it out vs. it gets burned off. You will have a better success rate and slow rate of growth if they excise. Not all cases can be depending on location so again, please talk with your doctor about your situation. This is not the same for everyone.
- If your doctor cannot do excision surgery. Skip and move on to the next! Trust me, well worth the time to research and find the right doctor. You will thank me later for this one too haha.
- Finding a doctor is stuff. Also tough to find resources. If you cannot find an Endometriosis specialist in your area who does excision, you may need to look out of state, but one tip is exploring gynecological oncologists. Some will take benign cases, but not all so do your research. But it’s a good avenue for help in your area or you want insurance coverage.
- Nanny’s Nook is a good resource for online information regarding endometriosis: https://nancysnookendo.com/
- Dr Seckin’s book called The Doctor Will See You Now is also worth the read (https://www.amazon.com/Doctor-Will-See-You-Endometriosis/dp/1681621126)
- Definitely look into Egg Freezing before doing any permanent surgeries. The ovaries are more intact when there is a uterus in place, so I recommend immediately following any excisions with Egg Freezing if you can and if it’s part of your plans. I found my AMH levels low (1.2) but still retrieved 25 eggs, so never be discouraged if this is your future planning path.
- My Symptoms: I experience bloating, constipation, diarrhea, nausea and vomiting as the main culprits. I have irregular periods in regards to the number of days and if it comes or not (even with an IUD). Pelvic pain is probably the worst of all since it accompanies these symptoms and is present a majority of the time. Others may have different symptoms, and there’s many others I didn’t list but wanted to paint the picture of some I’ve experienced.
PRE-SURGERY
- List of questions to ask your doctor
- Insurance Information and ID
- Necessary forms or paperwork the doctor requires
- Make sure any medical records are sent that would be relevant
- Eat smaller meals and simple foods days beforehand. If bowel prep is necessary, they also recommend taking a laxative in the days leading up to help prep.
- Pack a bag! Not every surgery is an overnight stay but even if you have a day-of surgery, back an overnight bag. Here’s the essentials:
- Phone/Headphones/iPad/Kindle/Books
- Device Chargers
- Medications that you currently take
- Glasses (do not wear contacts day of)
- An extra pair of underwear
- Sanitary Pads or Always Discreet
- Comfy pants with light elastic band around the waist
- Non wired bra
- Slip on shoes (this is clutch! Recommend slides -https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BL7LJKZW/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_search_asin_title?ie=UTF8&psc=1).
- Layers - Sweatshirt, Long Sleeved Shirt etc. - Hospitals are cold!
- Toothbrush and tooth paste
- Hairbrush
- Face wipes, wash cloth, small towel and bar of soap.
- Make sure your bed or couch is prepped. I stayed on the first level for the first 2ish days before feeling well enough to stay upstairs.
- I used a pregnancy pillow on the bed to help me stay on my back while sleeping and help you feel cozy.
- Stock the house with foods that will be light for your stomach. Think soups and casseroles! Saltine crackers, broths, rices etc..
- If you have a raised bed, get a step stool to assist. It’s best to sit on the side of the bed and slowly lay your upper body down while bringing your knees up and over to your back. You will need to use arm strength the first couple of days to get you up and over since you can’t use the abdomen.
- Water and Beverages stocked at all times. I have a reusable water bottle and avoid carbonated beverages for the time being. They fill you with gas for the procedure so it may make those symptoms worse.
- Netflix, Kindle, Puzzles, Craft Projects…visits with friends. Whatever makes the time pass, set it up ahead of time so it’s handy.
- Items to Keep on Hand: Baby Wipes, heating pads, pads/diapers, candles, essential oils, things that smell good haha
This is dependent on the type of surgery you are having, but its good to have Gatorade, Magnesium Citrate (liquid), laxatives and enemas on hand just in case you need these.
ON SURGERY DAY
It’s important to follow the instructions on what to stop taking and/or eating/drinking prior to the surgery. Wear comfy clothes (wide elastic waistband) and slides with cozy socks. Double check your to go bag and breath.
AT THE HOSPITAL
- Do your check-ins and keep your people with you as long as you want.
- Make sure to read all the consent forms and ask any questions upfront. Make any advance directives clear.
- Just try to remain calm as there’s a lot of down time while they do intake. It is about 2 hours of prep before they bring you in for the surgery itself.
- They will ask you the same questions over and over again, that’s normal and trust me, you want to confirm it’s all being done properly.
- If you need something for anxiety, they will be sure to give you something if you ask :)
- You will be wearing a gown, socks, funky underwear and a cool hair net haha wear the gown backward so you keep warm and keep the butt covered.
- Vitals will happen and the anesthesiologist will come and speak with you to make sure they prep the right meds beforehand. Bring up any concerns here with them!
- You may be wheeled or walked into surgery. I’ve only ever walked in and laid on the table myself.
- They will then put the IV in your arm and sometimes will put on a mask, they will then ask you to count backwards and before you know it, you will be awake again!
- You will wake-up and feel groggy. Totally normal and you will be in a different room. They will likely say a lot really quick about your surgery. Before leaving ask for them to walk through it or see if you can speak with the doctor again when clear headed. RECOMMENDED!
- Your throat will be sore, that’s normal from the tube.
- Just relax and sleep it off if you want, the goal is to be relaxed and pee once before leaving.
- Before you go, eat and drink and pass smoke urine. They’ll provide you with the meds and you’ll be good to go.
- Make sure someone brings you home after :)
- Make sure you have a bag for vomit in the car.
- Bring a small pillow that can be strapped between the car belt and you for maximum comfort on the trip home.
- Pain Med Management: This one is important. I messed up night one and didn’t take it soon enough and was in too much pain so make sure you stick to the schedule the doctors give you to ensure you are comfortable.
- Keep Walking: It seems unnatural to have a surgery then walk, but the sooner you get up and keep moving around the house, the better. Just avoid heavy lifting and immense bending like movements. Stairs are also ok but also consult with your doctor!
- Gas Build Up: I did feel pain in my shoulders from the gas. Just keep moving! It will help get that out of the system but this pain is normal.
- Relax and let people take care of you! Don’t be too quick to recover.
- Keep an eye out for fever, increased vaginal bleeding, or feeling terrible.
- Keep all post op appointments and follow all post op instructions!
Here’s the tips and tricks I found helpful for maintaining my pain and symptoms (GI and back pain related):
- Pelvic Floor Therapy: This is important for keeping the muscles in your pelvis healthy and strong to maintain your structure and also help manage pain. Consult with your doctor on whether this is right for you.
- Physical Therapy: I do PT for my back and pelvic floor since it’s all related. We focus on Myofascial Release Therapy to help break up the adhesions and give me more mobility. This helps with temporary pain relief (reduction in number), but that is always welcome :)
- Acupuncture: I swear by Acupuncture. I don’t know what it does or why, but it works. It’s not a cure by any means, but it's great for relaxation, fertility, digestion, endometriosis, sleep, etc.. I can go on, but it’s not covered by insurance plans all the time so you will need to check and see what you’re able to take on.
- Diet/Exercise:
- Eating high protein, lower fat/carbs (not none just low) helps your body, but overall learn your trigger foods! This will go a long way.
- Ginger, turmeric and fennel all help with bloating. I like to drink them in tea form when I’m feeling particularly hard stomached as it’s a good natural way to decrease the bloat. Peppermint also works for some, for me it irritates my GERD.
- Chamomile for relaxation
- Walking and movement are important. I cannot do anything high impact due to my sacroiliitis diagnosis, so I stick with light yoga and walking.
- Alcohol/Other Substances: Don’t do it. Don’t touch it. You’ll thank me later on this point.
- Sleep: Insomnia is a very real thing. I think I went 2 or 3 days at its worst one time and I cannot say enough how important trying to keep the same sleep schedule will benefit you. Waking and sleeping around the same time each day will still feel exhausting but at least you know your body is getting the most sleep it can get.
- Medications/Supplements:
- Ibprofuern: This does NOT work for me. I have GERD and ulcers so I cannot take NSAIDs, but with that in mind, NSAIDs are supposedly the best pain medication over the counter to help you manage it.
- Pain Killers: These are AS NEEDED. I try to refrain and leave these for the TRULY bad days which I try to spread out. Not even worth it sometimes, because I don’t like how I feel and sometimes vomit after taking them. But they do help the pain!
- IUD/Orilissa: An IUD will NOT do anything. If you are diagnosed, ask your doctor about Orilissa or similar medicines instead of birth control methods. This will not stop the growth, just suppress it. There are side effects and it is only a short term solution.
- Linzess: This worked well for me for constipation symptoms when they got severe. Definitely recommend bringing this to your doctor if you’re truly suffering and they have not yet mentioned. I also resorted after trying magnesium citrate
- CBD Lotions/Salves: For my pelvis, I use Healing Rose CBD Salve in Orange and Lavender (https://www.thehealingroseco.com/product/orange-lavender-with-chamomile-herbal-salve-300mg-cbd/). For my back, I use a medical grade CBD lotion with menthol (https://cbdclinic.co/clinical-strength-series/). I also use a CBD massage oil from Healing Rose of the same scent when doing myofascial release at home. I also use Somedays Cramp Cream (https://somedays.com/products/period-cramp-cream?variant=42062153842853).
- Heating Pads and Ice Pack: I have several varieties of heating pads. A cordless travel heating pad (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FPTJL4G?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details), a plug-in heating pad (lhttps://www.hsn.com/products/pure-enrichment-purerelief-xxl-heating-pad-with-9-cord/22188460) and stick on patches (https://www.thermacare.com/ - I use the back patches but reverse them to the front for better coverage). For hot flashes and night sweats (also if you need to relax while anxious) place an ice pack over your chest to help cool or calm down.
- Self-Care: No joke, massages, facials, epsom salt baths, sound baths, reiki….anything that you find relaxing. Do it. Try it! They also make CBD bath bombs Ive been wanting to check out.
- TENs Machine: I really want one, don’t have one, but people swear by them (the heating pad linked to MyObi has a TENs version - https://myobistore.com/en-us/collections/my-obi-belts/products/apollo-2-0).
- Pregnancy Pillow: This one sounds so lame, but I bought a pregnancy pillow for my first endometriosis surgery since I’m a side sleeper to help keep me on my back during recovery. It changed by life! It helps my anxiety and makes me comfortable while sleeping. (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YYVRXLM/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_search_asin_title?ie=UTF8&psc=1)..
- Heated Blankets/Cozy Blankets: Make yourself feel better with a cozy blanket. Do it, I dare you!
- Endo To-Go Bag: Includes heating pads (travel, plug-in and patches), medications, balms/salves, essential oils and pads/protection items, change of clothes, wet wipes.
- Sex Life: I’m single, I don’t have a partner to worry about communicating this issue with at this point, but go slow and communicate given eventually this will have to be a conversation. What I have learned is that if you do have sex and feel pain. Immediately stop! If you associate sex with pain mentally in that moment, it may cause fear in doing so down the line so it’s best to stop the moment you feel any pain occur.
- Work Life: I work a demanding job so it was not working with the appointments and care I needed to manage pain. Always get FMLA from your doctor for intermittent leave based on your company's policies. This protects you from flare-ups and appointments. Short Term Disability is based on your situation with work so talk with them about any leave of absence for surgery and recovery and ensure the medical providers fill out the paperwork appropriately.
- Friends/Family: This one is the worst. I have to cancel and make plans all the time based on how I feel. I like to line up a bunch of plans for three months out and do my best to make them happen at the beginning of the month when I know I’m most likely to feel good. I just say I’ll make things up to them when I get better and those who have stuck around have been truly amazing friends, but don’t be upset that some might be over the day in and out of what you’re going through. It’s hard for you and sometimes others and it’s just a part of the relationships we’re meant to experience in life. Most people (unless they have endometriosis) don’t understand it so it can feel isolating, but there’s others out there who know what you’re going through and are willing to chat. Just gotta find them and reach out on social media, online etc..
- Journaling Symptoms: Guilty of not being the best at this always, but it's good to track your symptoms to see how they work and operate. It helps not only you plan for it, but also your doctors in how best to handle your care. Take photos of things that make sense to show your doctors! Discharge, bowels etc..can sometimes help diagnose or judge with the images.
- Next to Bed Kit: Make sure your nightstand is stocked with the essentials for your bad days. Makes it easier to access the items you need when you just can’t get up and get it.
- Squatty Potty: Another thing that is majorly life changing on constipation days! Get one or you can make your own :) Take a stack of books and stack them at equal heights on each side and put your feet up. The trick is making sure you’re in a squat with your knees high to your ears.
- Clothing: Dressing for this is key but you still want to look cute! Joggers with a stretchy waist are my go to pants, but wide leg trousers with a stretchy waist help with ease of removal but also comfort and brings some style to the look.
- Pads: I wear Always Discreet vs. pads. I find when you need to wear them full time for incontinence it just makes it more comfortable. They have different cuts and styles so definitely check them out!
2024.05.13 20:15 Carl_Sefni Cell 11 [final]
Hey folks, hello again. I took a bit longer this time to update (Part 1 and Part 2 here) you but at least I bring good news: this weekend, I got the definitive answer from the prison's legal department, and now I know how much I can tell (and I believe it's enough). For your information, after this incident and my eventual release from prison, I haven't contacted anyone I met behind bars, except of course for my wife, Linda. The point is, even after all these years, this story has troubled me a lot, and since my first post, I've become even more paranoid. Finally, this morning, I went out to get the mail but as soon as I opened the door, I came face to face with a small untouched white envelope, except for two identical characters stamped on its surface: 11. Linda is sleeping, and I don't want to worry her, I'm at the kitchen counter thinking about what to do with this envelope while reliving the final events of all this mess, of what was really inside cell 11.
It was morning, and there I was in my cell, in a scene poetically similar to this. I held a playing card, an 11 of clubs. I later searched for such a card online, but found nothing. It was strange, very well made. Before I could reflect more deeply on this, one of the guards passed by our corridor, opening the cell doors for our breakfast.
So, slowly, as if in a trance, I got up from bed and put the playing card in my pocket. Somehow, the card seemed to heat up in my pocket, I could feel the heat increasing and increasing, almost burning my skin. It was a strange stupor, almost drunken, I could even swear I smelled ether lingering in the air as I staggered to the cafeteria.
I slumped into the seat as I placed the tray on the table. Old Munford looked at me in a friendly manner:
"Overdid it yesterday, lad? Your hangover face is priceless."
I forced a weak smile in response to Munford's comment, trying to seem normal despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind. The heat still burned in my pocket, an uncomfortable sensation that seemed to be intensifying with each passing moment.
"No, nothing much," I muttered, looking away to my food tray. "Just didn't sleep very well."
Munford seemed satisfied with my response and turned his attention back to his own meal. As I stirred the food without really eating, struggling to maintain my composure, I began to think about what to do.
My thoughts were interrupted when Francis joined us at the table, his usual smile lighting up his face. He looked at me with a questioning expression.
"Hey man, everything okay? You look awful."
"I think it was the heat, or maybe something I ate last night."
Francis frowned. Unlike the elder, he clearly wasn't convinced by my superficial explanation.
"Some of the guys told me they saw Bob talking to you last night. Did he do something?"
The question caught me off guard. All this news about the playing card had prevented me from thinking about the strange interaction with Bob since the previous night, but now the memories began to resurface, mixed with the heat sensation coming from my pocket.
"Oh, it was nothing," I said quickly, trying to sound casual. "Bob was just being a bit... Bob."
I felt Francis's gaze linger on my face for a moment.
"If he does anything, you know you can talk to us, right? I know he's one of ours, but that doesn't mean I'll go easy on him."
I analyzed the options for a moment, reflecting on everything. Well, now it seemed to make sense, a prank by Bob, or an attempt to intimidate me...
"There's... something, Francis," I said in a low tone, feeling tense about the confession I was about to make. "Last night, after the card tournament, I... I ran into Bob in the hallway. He was questioning me about the tournament, accusing me of cheating."
Francis's face hardened at my words, a displeased expression passing over his features.
"Cheating? And you?"
"I swear I played fair," I replied quickly, the pressure building inside me. "But he was convinced I had some advantage, and... well, things got a bit tense... He walked away, and this morning I found this in my cell."
Deciding to omit the encounter with Tulley, I got straight to the point, pulling the card out of my pocket and placing it on the table. I could feel it almost incandescent now.
Munford looked at the card for a moment, his gaze narrowing as he studied it. The heat emanating from it was almost palpable, a strange aura that seemed to envelop the table.
"Is that... an 11 of clubs?" he murmured, his voice tinged with surprise and suspicion.
I nodded, my own confusion mingling with growing anxiety.
"Yes... I don't know, maybe Bob did this to scare me, to show that he has access to my cell, or to try to provoke me, knowing my fear of cell 11..."
My words were cut off when the guard's voice echoed through the cafeteria, interrupting our conversation as he announced that the meal period was over.
Francis looked at me with a serious expression.
"We'll talk about this later," he pointed to the card. "Mind if I take it with me?"
I nodded.
"No problem, feel free."
We began our march back to the cells, and I couldn't help but exchange glances with old Munford. He seemed to hesitate on the matter, as if he wanted to say something but was afraid. I made a mental note to speak with him as soon as possible. Our yard time would be in the next 4 hours, and I spent half of that time trying to ponder what had happened.
I don't know how long it took, but I fell asleep, sitting, with my back pressed against the wall of my cell. The dream, or rather, nightmare resulting from this was a disturbing experience.
I found myself standing, walking through the prison corridors in a way that seemed endless. The walls seemed to close in around me, creating a claustrophobic labyrinth that I couldn't escape. Every door I tried to open was locked, and the sound of footsteps echoed behind me, as if someone were following my every step.
Finally, I reached a door that was ajar, a dim light emanating from within. With a knot in my stomach, I pushed it slowly, revealing what seemed to be cell 11. But something was terribly wrong. A man was there, his back to me. Disheveled, uneven hair, a hunched posture, he was crouched down, rummaging through something I couldn't see, seemed to regurgitate. Suddenly, he stopped. He slowly got up and then looked at me.
Somehow, I knew that man was that prisoner, the one who had committed those atrocities and painted the eye on the damn cell. I noticed something dripping from his mouth, forming a red puddle in the center. On the wall, what seemed to be an incomplete sketch of the dreaded painting was there.
I watched, hypnotized by the horror before me, as the man slowly raised his trembling hand towards his face. Drops of that dark liquid dripped from his fingers, echoing in the oppressive silence of the cell. It was as if the very air was tainted with that impurity.
Before I could fully process what was happening, he began to move towards me, his irregular steps echoing like the distant clinking of chains. A visceral panic seized me, preventing me from retreating as he came closer and closer, his distorted figure gaining sharper contours as he advanced through the gloom. I could now smell the terrible scent he had, not just as something rotten, but a pure and concrete smell of death.
"Who... who are you?" My own voice sounded weak and trembling.
The man didn't answer. Instead, he kept advancing, his empty eyes seeming to pierce my soul. My heart was now pounding uncontrollably in my chest, a deafening cacophony that seemed to fill the entire space of the cell. I was about to retreat, to beg for mercy, when a voice whispered in my mind, a distorted echo reverberating like the sigh of a ghost:
"You... can you see? The watchful eye. He wants you. He liked looking at you."
The sound of my own breath echoed in the silence that followed, a dissonant note of fear and desperation. I wanted to scream, to run, to escape this living nightmare, but I was paralyzed by the terror that enveloped me like a coffin.
It was then that I woke up, gasping and covered in sweat, the echo of the whisper still resonating in my mind like a distant echo of a nightmare. For a moment, everything around me seemed distorted and unreal, a fleeting mirage, and then, I startled again. Munford was standing in front of my cell, staring at me with curiosity.
"Are you okay, son?" the old man asked in a soft voice, as if trying to calm a frightened animal.
I shook my head slowly, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of information.
"I... I think so," I murmured, my voice sounding strange and distant even to myself. "I had a horrible nightmare... It felt so real."
Munford nodded understandingly, his eyes fixed on mine.
"Yeah, the situation isn't good... but I came to talk about that letter, earlier in the cafeteria."
"Oh yeah, what about it?"
"Let's just say I've never seen a card like that, but the energy coming from it, oh yeah, I've seen that before."
"What do you mean?"
"You know, a few years ago, there was a murder in one of the cells. This was before Francis arrived, we didn't have much organization, lynchings were common, and in an attempt to reduce these incidents, we decided that the main suspect, a newly captured serial killer, would be forcibly transferred to cell 11. It was one of the most terrible incidents I've ever witnessed in here. And do you know how that man was known?"
I shook my head negatively. Munford leaned his hands on two bars, bringing his face closer to the center of them.
"The Card Cutter."
A wave of shivers ran down my spine.
"He used to leave playing cards as a kind of signature on the bodies of his victims. They say he would choose the card based on the person or the method of murder. So, when he was put in cell 11, things got even weirder."
"What happened to him?" I asked, a bittersweet and macabre curiosity in my mouth.
Munford sighed heavily, looking at a fixed point this time.
"A few weeks after being transferred, he was found dead in his cell. Hung with sheets. And next to his body..."
"What was it?" I could barely breathe as I listened.
"A playing card. An ace of spades, if I'm not mistaken. And that cell... well, since then, no one wants to stay there. They say it does something to people, kills them."
The shock of Munford's revelation reverberated in my chest, trembling as I thought about what could happen to Guard Tulley from now on, or worse, what could happen to us.
"So you think this card is... a warning?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, staring into the old man's green eyes.
Munford nodded slowly, responding more to himself than to me.
"I can't say for sure, but it's a possibility to consider."
I swallowed hard.
"What should we do then?"
He fell silent for a moment, as if pondering his words carefully.
"I have no idea. I guess all we can do is keep quiet; we don't want to scare the other inmates. Francis doesn't believe in these things, so I won't waste my time trying to convince him, and I advise you to do the same. Maybe if we just keep pretending that nothing is happening, things will sort themselves out. But remember: whatever this force is, it wants to take you to the cell, wants you to face the eye. Resist those urges, okay?"
The clock struck 12:30. Time for yard time. I walked with Munford to the yard, the sun burning our heads as we stepped outside, futilely trying to erase the worry from our minds.
As I watched the other inmates spreading out across the yard, trying to appear normal, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find Bob, his voice low and threatening.
"What did you tell Francis?" he whispered, he was behind me, and I couldn't see him.
The flesh on my back trembled and twisted, the fluid of fear rising up to my brain.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bob," I replied firmly, trying to sound confident.
He paused for a few seconds.
"You cheat first, and now, you make up lies about what I did or didn't do."
"I think there's a misunderstanding-"
"Shut up!" his voice rose sharply "I'm just here to say that I'm not a kid, I don't go around sending playing card letters or anything like that. I didn't threaten you with that thing, but now I am, and in a very direct way, and if I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open."
He was dead serious, and the threat was as clear as day. But what could I do? Confront Bob directly like Francis? That could mean he wasn't trustworthy... My thoughts were interrupted by the guard watching us.
"You two, no contact!" he shouted.
"No problem here, officer," Bob said, pulling me into a hug that felt more like an attempted chokehold.
I tried to pull away unsuccessfully, and the officer seemed to simply not care.
"Okay, but we'll be watching," he turned away, and Bob shoved me against the yard bars.
"Listen here, Bob," I began, my voice firm, confused about where this courage had even come from. "I don't know what you're up to, but I won't stand still while you try to intimidate me. If you have something to say, then say it like a man. Otherwise, leave me alone." I pushed him away with my hand.
"You're a fool, you know that?" he muttered.
"I'm not looking for trouble, but if you want it, you'll get it. Let's just leave it be, okay? If anything happens to me, I'll make sure some people know and-"
My assailant's hand closed around my neck, tightening. I squirmed, struggling to breathe as I desperately tried to free myself from his grip.
"Going to call daddy? Look, Francis may have that whole attitude, but he won't do anything to me, or any of the guys," he remarked.
I noticed the usual group of big guys who hung around with Francis, they were watching us from afar, seeming to distract the boss.
"He's getting out in two months...but honestly, I don't think I need to wait that long."
I couldn't breathe. Fighting against the grip on my neck, my eyes desperately searched for any help.
"Let him go!" The guard shouted from afar, starting to make his way down the stairs to reach us.
Bob didn't obey. I felt my body losing strength, so I did what I could: I focused my strength into a clenched fist and punched the bastard in the stomach, aiming right at his gut. And judging by his expression, it worked. I saw him lean over, his hands releasing my body and being placed on his belly.
I knew if I let it slide, he would come back and continue to harass me, so that had to be a definitive response to the jerk that I wasn't an easy prey. I lunged at him again, this time with a well-aimed kick to his knee, trying to destabilize him. He staggered backwards with a groan of pain, falling to his knees on the yard ground.
The other prisoners now realized what had happened, and soon their shouts in a circle were audible.
"Go, get him! Don't hold back! Finish this guy off!"
I lunged at Bob, raising my hand time after time to punch him. He didn't take it lightly, grabbing my right hand as I prepared to hit him; I could feel the pressure applied to the joints, my fingers starting to crack, and I could feel them tense, about to break. In desperation, I threw myself onto him with the only weapon I had left: my teeth.
I felt the flesh of his neck between the rows of teeth in my mouth. Without thinking and trying to loosen the grip on my hand, I pressed on the pearly bones harder and harder, feeling them slide against the skin, the metallic taste slowly emerging as the flesh was torn.
The scene around me seemed blurry, as if I were watching everything happen from afar, in slow motion. Bob's scream echoed through the yard, mixing with the encouragement shouts from the other inmates. I felt a mix of adrenaline and horror as my teeth sank into his neck flesh, a strange feeling of power and disgust.
While still hunched over that bloody man, I felt the blows on my back: it was the guards. Their batons striking time after time as the adrenaline rush passed, and I now began to feel the pain. Without resistance, I let myself be pulled away. Bob wasted no time and moved away, stumbling as he covered the wound.
"YOU SCUMBAG, WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?"
As I was being taken away, everything around me seemed blurred, as if I were in a state of stupor. The voices of the other inmates echoed in my ears, mixed with images of the fight that had just occurred. I still felt the blood running through my mouth, dripping lightly onto the ground and forming a trail of red dots marking my path. However, before we left the yard, our warden arrived at the scene, and the guards stopped, my arm uncomfortably twisted behind my body.
"What's going on here?" His voice was calm, but there was an unquestionable tone of authority in his words.
"He... he bit a detainee, sir," one of the guards explained, firmly holding my arm.
The warden looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.
"Why did you do that?"
My mind was spinning, trying to find a coherent explanation for what had happened. I knew it would be useless to tell about Bob's threat, about the playing card, about the fear he had instilled in me. So, I found the most plausible words I could gather:
"He... he provoked me, sir," I murmured, my voice trembling. "I... couldn't take it anymore. He was intimidating me, threatening me, and I... I lost control."
The warden looked at me for a long moment, as if assessing my words. Finally, he sighed, seeming resigned, approaching me with slow, steady steps.
"No, you did that because you're an animal."
He gave me two pats on the cheek, then wiped the blood running from my mouth.
"Take this one to solitary."
The prisoners began to shout, a real noisy commotion. I trembled at the thought of being locked up there. No one came back the same from solitary, but at that moment, I really think I'd prefer to go there than what was to come.
"But sir," one of the guards said, causing the inmates to fall silent in an attempt to hear something, "The solitary is occupied..."
The warden frowned, clearly irritated by the interruption.
"Then take him to cell 11," he ordered, his voice cold and authoritative.
That was the final blow, causing the uproar to become widespread, with even some inmates needing to be subdued with tear gas. I could see as I was pushed, Munford looking at me, a worried and distressed expression on his face; he said something I couldn't understand amidst the noise.
With my heart pounding erratically in my chest and my mind clouded with fear and uncertainty, I was led by the guards towards cell 11. Each step felt like it weighed tons, as if I were walking towards the abyss. I could feel the stares of the other inmates watching the scene, some with expressions of shock, others with a mixture of curiosity and indifference.
Finally, we arrived, and by this point, I was sweating uncontrollably; they opened the cell and threw me inside. My eyes instinctively closed as I fell to the ground. I didn't want to look at it. I got up, still blinding my vision, slowly groping around until I found the bed. I lay on it and turned to the wall beside it, my face as close as possible.
Lying on the hard bed, I could feel my heart beating so loudly that it seemed to echo off the concrete walls around me. Each beat was a pulsating reminder of my situation. I tried to push away the thoughts, but it was like trying to hold back a raging river with bare hands. All the while, I heard stories, heard things about that place, and now I was there, cornered by circumstances beyond my control.
Gradually, I noticed the thick layer of sweat forming around me. I could even feel my pores opening, pouring the water from my body in an attempt to cool myself in that stuffy, hot environment. I couldn't help but think about the heat of the card and... about Francis. He still had the card. Wasn't that dangerous? I fixated on musings about it.
In my feverish frenzy, time seemed to stretch infinitely in that dark cell, minutes dragging on like hours as I struggled to maintain my sanity. Every sound, every shadow was a source of growing anxiety until somehow, I fell into a deep sleep, dreamless this time.
I woke up in the middle of the night, with a faint noise coming from behind the heavy steel door. At first, I feared, wondering what it could be, but as soon as I regained my senses, I remembered where I was, and frankly, nothing outside could be worse. I cautiously approached the source of the sound, trying to listen better, when a "Hey, kid, it's me!" sounded whispered.
"Munford! Munford, I'm glad you're here, knew you wouldn't abandon me."
"Ha, I know, I know," he sounded nervous, perhaps hiding from the guards. "Look, I'd help you out, but I can't get it open from this side, try it there." A small plastic rectangle slid through the door gap. A credit card... I remembered I had done this many times before.
I grabbed the card and started working, carefully sliding it into the lock. Each movement was made with the precision I gained from years of street experience, trying not to make any noise that could attract the guards' attention. My mind was racing, and the tremor it transmitted to my fingers made motor coordination difficult.
Finally, after several minutes of trial and error, I heard a soft click, and the door opened slowly. I could smell the fresh air from the corridor and was already about to smile when, along with the bright light of a flashlight, I saw Bob, now with his neck and shoulder bandaged, along with three more of his cronies. Munford was being held by one, who held an improvised knife to his neck.
"Sorry, kid, they forced me," the old man lamented.
"Not so fast, princess." Bob pushed me inside, onto the floor, and then he entered with one of his cronies, closing the door behind him and illuminating me with the halo of his flashlight.
"What's up, Bob, can't you leave me alone?"
"You wanted to settle things, didn't you? Well..." he pointed to his wound. "You just signed your death warrant! But first, I'm going to make sure to pull out all your teeth and make you swallow them."
He lifted me by the collar of my shirt and landed a punch with his heavy hand. I felt dizzy, seeing stars, curling up into a fetal position. His laughter was now a terrifying melody to me.
"Look at this crybaby. Where did your bravery go?" He kicked my stomach, and I'm sure he found it an ironic poetic justice.
His cohort laughed until the beam of his flashlight shifted away from me.
"Hey Bob, what's that over there?" He said, simultaneously pointing with his finger and the flashlight.
Even though it was on the wall behind me, I knew what it was. I saw Bob straighten up to face it, becoming petrified. He and the other, standing there, mouths agape. I waited for seconds, counting mentally and holding my breath, expecting anything, but nothing. Until suddenly, I began to see small puddles forming under their lower eyelids, dark marks... of blood.
The red tears started to stream down their faces like large crimson waterfalls. Soon, they began to make a noise... a familiar noise, which made my mind freeze as I felt my toes curling inside my shoes and my mouth trembling uncontrollably. It was the same sound as Tulley's. They were now allowing these moans to escape their throats and resonate in the tight concrete walls.
I had to do something. I began slowly to pass by them, trying to edge around. When, however, I was almost reaching the door, I could see their shadows turning slowly in my direction. The tension in the air was palpable, as if it could be cut with a knife. I held myself back from trembling as I tried to maintain composure in front of those men, whose bloodshot eyes were now fixed on me, full of terror and despair.
"What... what's happening?" My voice came out in a trembling whisper, barely able to make myself heard.
Bob and his cohort remained silent. They began to walk towards me, and in desperation, I opened the cell door and slammed it loudly behind me, not caring about attracting the guards' attention. As I looked around, I actually noticed that this was a concern I didn't need to have.
The environment where I was wasn't what I expected, from the prison corridor. It was actually another cell. I stopped for a moment, confused, only to be surprised by a figure in the center of it. A man in a straitjacket looking at me with a petrified smile.
"I've been waiting for you," he said. His voice was blood-curdling, sounding like someone scratching a chalkboard with their nails or scraping a fork on a glass plate.
I tried to open the door but it was stuck. When I turned around again, he was leaning, his face inches from mine, eyes bloodshot. I almost fell backward. He laughed. It was like the last time, he had his mouth covered by a sticky red mass that dripped, probably serving as material for the painting, which now displayed an almost complete surreal eye. He turned and walked to the painting, and then he regurgitated it again. Since his hands were tied, he used his tongue as a brush, finishing the last line of the drawing.
"This," he whispered. "Is my masterpiece."
I was trembling. I had forgotten Munford's advice, and now I found myself petrified, just like the others, staring at the eye. I don't know how much time passed, but I felt like it was hours, days... years. All in the blink of an eye, or rather, in a stare without a single blink.
I tried in vain to regain my composure. Scenes of horror penetrated my mind. Cadavers, bodies marked by playing cards. Criminals, inmates being violently beaten with batons, pepper spray, and all sorts of luxuries the police can serve, I saw gang fights, blood, death, and abuse. I saw people being killed inside the prison. Each scene of violence that each of those who looked had already witnessed. My legs were no more than reeds in the wind now, and I just wanted to run away and scream, cry, and sleep to never wake up again. I tried to scream but the man came to me, placing his foot over my mouth.
"Shhh... you need to see."
He repeated this indefinitely. "need to see, need to see, need to see, need to see"
With superhuman effort, I managed to free myself from the weight of his foot on my mouth, but I could barely articulate coherent words. My voice came out trembling and weak when I finally managed to speak:
"What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?"
He simply continued smiling, as if my words were just another piece in his sadistic game. Then, with a quick and fluid movement, he approached me, so close that I could feel his fetid breath and the metallic smell of blood dripping from his mouth.
"Your mind is a fascinating playground," he murmured, his voice echoing in the claustrophobic space of the cell.
I felt tears running down my cheek, and I knew what color they were. I stood there, in shock, staring at the large painted eye, while my entire being was eaten alive in fear and dread. I don't know how much time passed, maybe the entire age of the universe, eternity, who knows. I woke up on the infirmary bed. Wires connected to my arm while a machine reproduced the "beeps" of my heart.
I looked to the side, seeing the green eyes of nurse Linda looking at me, concerned.
"Are you okay?"
"You need to see," I said, not even wanting to.
She frowned, evidently confused by my response. Linda seemed hesitant, as if she were trying to decide whether to ask more or simply ignore my strange statement. I could see the concern in her eyes, but also a certain curiosity, as if something inside her was intrigued by what I had to say.
"What do you mean by that?" She finally asked, her soft voice echoing in the silence of the infirmary.
I sat up slowly on the bed, feeling a wave of dizziness pass over me. My mind was still cloudy, as if I were struggling to emerge from a deep nightmare. I tried to articulate my words as coherently as possible.
"I... I saw things," I murmured, my voice still trembling. "Terrible things. In the cell... in there... something... something is wrong."
Linda watched me with a serious expression, her green eyes analyzing me carefully. She seemed to understand that something serious had happened, but couldn't fully comprehend what I was trying to communicate.
"Look... you and the others had a collective hallucination in that cell... The director has already arranged for an investigation, but we suspect carbon monoxide poisoning, we've already talked to him about the lack of windows in that place, but it seems he doesn't listen."
I stopped, confused by that information. Was I hallucinating? Well, maybe I would even think that if it weren't for what followed. A man in a dark suit entered. He had a serious and intimidating expression, and he asked Linda to leave.
"Listen here, young man, you're lucky to have come back. The others are catatonic... and probably won't come back to themselves. That's why your cooperation is extremely important, and we need to know: what did you see?"
I stumbled, recounting as much information as I could remember, from Tulley to Bob. The man listened to me without making any expression. After that, he took a radio that was hanging from his blazer and said some words that I didn't quite understand, something like "Ceter," "Queter"... and then he took a clipboard, handing it to me.
"This is your letter of freedom. Our proposal is as follows: We release you from prison and in exchange, you don't open your mouth about the specific events mentioned here," he pointed to the clauses.
That was five years ago, and given my freedom, you must imagine that not everything that happened is transcribed here, but the most important parts are. I ended up visiting Munford a few times after that, and I was horrified to discover that Francis, on the eve of his release, hanged himself with the bedsheet. The old man and I stared at each other after this discovery, in a mutual silent understanding. Shortly after, they closed not only the cell, but our entire pavilion, relocating the inmates. I never saw Munford or any of the others again after that. My nightmares persisted, but in recent months they have been much less frequent, and I think I might be slowly healing.
I wanted to say that this story ends well, with my rehabilitation. A troublesome prisoner full of stories becoming a family man. And it would be, if it weren't for the last 15 minutes of this morning. I believe you may remember that I received a letter this morning like that cursed number. I left it on the counter in the living room while I came here, to have breakfast and finish reporting this to you. When I finished the last paragraph, I went back to the room, but now, it seems like the whole nightmare is back.
I felt the tears, transparent this time, forming in my eyes. In the center of the room right now is Linda, holding the letter, looking at something in it that I can already imagine. She's standing there, wet and red stains on her face, I can hear her whispering "You need to see... need to see," and by God... I can see...
submitted by Carl_Sefni to nosleep [link] [comments]
It was morning, and there I was in my cell, in a scene poetically similar to this. I held a playing card, an 11 of clubs. I later searched for such a card online, but found nothing. It was strange, very well made. Before I could reflect more deeply on this, one of the guards passed by our corridor, opening the cell doors for our breakfast.
So, slowly, as if in a trance, I got up from bed and put the playing card in my pocket. Somehow, the card seemed to heat up in my pocket, I could feel the heat increasing and increasing, almost burning my skin. It was a strange stupor, almost drunken, I could even swear I smelled ether lingering in the air as I staggered to the cafeteria.
I slumped into the seat as I placed the tray on the table. Old Munford looked at me in a friendly manner:
"Overdid it yesterday, lad? Your hangover face is priceless."
I forced a weak smile in response to Munford's comment, trying to seem normal despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind. The heat still burned in my pocket, an uncomfortable sensation that seemed to be intensifying with each passing moment.
"No, nothing much," I muttered, looking away to my food tray. "Just didn't sleep very well."
Munford seemed satisfied with my response and turned his attention back to his own meal. As I stirred the food without really eating, struggling to maintain my composure, I began to think about what to do.
My thoughts were interrupted when Francis joined us at the table, his usual smile lighting up his face. He looked at me with a questioning expression.
"Hey man, everything okay? You look awful."
"I think it was the heat, or maybe something I ate last night."
Francis frowned. Unlike the elder, he clearly wasn't convinced by my superficial explanation.
"Some of the guys told me they saw Bob talking to you last night. Did he do something?"
The question caught me off guard. All this news about the playing card had prevented me from thinking about the strange interaction with Bob since the previous night, but now the memories began to resurface, mixed with the heat sensation coming from my pocket.
"Oh, it was nothing," I said quickly, trying to sound casual. "Bob was just being a bit... Bob."
I felt Francis's gaze linger on my face for a moment.
"If he does anything, you know you can talk to us, right? I know he's one of ours, but that doesn't mean I'll go easy on him."
I analyzed the options for a moment, reflecting on everything. Well, now it seemed to make sense, a prank by Bob, or an attempt to intimidate me...
"There's... something, Francis," I said in a low tone, feeling tense about the confession I was about to make. "Last night, after the card tournament, I... I ran into Bob in the hallway. He was questioning me about the tournament, accusing me of cheating."
Francis's face hardened at my words, a displeased expression passing over his features.
"Cheating? And you?"
"I swear I played fair," I replied quickly, the pressure building inside me. "But he was convinced I had some advantage, and... well, things got a bit tense... He walked away, and this morning I found this in my cell."
Deciding to omit the encounter with Tulley, I got straight to the point, pulling the card out of my pocket and placing it on the table. I could feel it almost incandescent now.
Munford looked at the card for a moment, his gaze narrowing as he studied it. The heat emanating from it was almost palpable, a strange aura that seemed to envelop the table.
"Is that... an 11 of clubs?" he murmured, his voice tinged with surprise and suspicion.
I nodded, my own confusion mingling with growing anxiety.
"Yes... I don't know, maybe Bob did this to scare me, to show that he has access to my cell, or to try to provoke me, knowing my fear of cell 11..."
My words were cut off when the guard's voice echoed through the cafeteria, interrupting our conversation as he announced that the meal period was over.
Francis looked at me with a serious expression.
"We'll talk about this later," he pointed to the card. "Mind if I take it with me?"
I nodded.
"No problem, feel free."
We began our march back to the cells, and I couldn't help but exchange glances with old Munford. He seemed to hesitate on the matter, as if he wanted to say something but was afraid. I made a mental note to speak with him as soon as possible. Our yard time would be in the next 4 hours, and I spent half of that time trying to ponder what had happened.
I don't know how long it took, but I fell asleep, sitting, with my back pressed against the wall of my cell. The dream, or rather, nightmare resulting from this was a disturbing experience.
I found myself standing, walking through the prison corridors in a way that seemed endless. The walls seemed to close in around me, creating a claustrophobic labyrinth that I couldn't escape. Every door I tried to open was locked, and the sound of footsteps echoed behind me, as if someone were following my every step.
Finally, I reached a door that was ajar, a dim light emanating from within. With a knot in my stomach, I pushed it slowly, revealing what seemed to be cell 11. But something was terribly wrong. A man was there, his back to me. Disheveled, uneven hair, a hunched posture, he was crouched down, rummaging through something I couldn't see, seemed to regurgitate. Suddenly, he stopped. He slowly got up and then looked at me.
Somehow, I knew that man was that prisoner, the one who had committed those atrocities and painted the eye on the damn cell. I noticed something dripping from his mouth, forming a red puddle in the center. On the wall, what seemed to be an incomplete sketch of the dreaded painting was there.
I watched, hypnotized by the horror before me, as the man slowly raised his trembling hand towards his face. Drops of that dark liquid dripped from his fingers, echoing in the oppressive silence of the cell. It was as if the very air was tainted with that impurity.
Before I could fully process what was happening, he began to move towards me, his irregular steps echoing like the distant clinking of chains. A visceral panic seized me, preventing me from retreating as he came closer and closer, his distorted figure gaining sharper contours as he advanced through the gloom. I could now smell the terrible scent he had, not just as something rotten, but a pure and concrete smell of death.
"Who... who are you?" My own voice sounded weak and trembling.
The man didn't answer. Instead, he kept advancing, his empty eyes seeming to pierce my soul. My heart was now pounding uncontrollably in my chest, a deafening cacophony that seemed to fill the entire space of the cell. I was about to retreat, to beg for mercy, when a voice whispered in my mind, a distorted echo reverberating like the sigh of a ghost:
"You... can you see? The watchful eye. He wants you. He liked looking at you."
The sound of my own breath echoed in the silence that followed, a dissonant note of fear and desperation. I wanted to scream, to run, to escape this living nightmare, but I was paralyzed by the terror that enveloped me like a coffin.
It was then that I woke up, gasping and covered in sweat, the echo of the whisper still resonating in my mind like a distant echo of a nightmare. For a moment, everything around me seemed distorted and unreal, a fleeting mirage, and then, I startled again. Munford was standing in front of my cell, staring at me with curiosity.
"Are you okay, son?" the old man asked in a soft voice, as if trying to calm a frightened animal.
I shook my head slowly, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of information.
"I... I think so," I murmured, my voice sounding strange and distant even to myself. "I had a horrible nightmare... It felt so real."
Munford nodded understandingly, his eyes fixed on mine.
"Yeah, the situation isn't good... but I came to talk about that letter, earlier in the cafeteria."
"Oh yeah, what about it?"
"Let's just say I've never seen a card like that, but the energy coming from it, oh yeah, I've seen that before."
"What do you mean?"
"You know, a few years ago, there was a murder in one of the cells. This was before Francis arrived, we didn't have much organization, lynchings were common, and in an attempt to reduce these incidents, we decided that the main suspect, a newly captured serial killer, would be forcibly transferred to cell 11. It was one of the most terrible incidents I've ever witnessed in here. And do you know how that man was known?"
I shook my head negatively. Munford leaned his hands on two bars, bringing his face closer to the center of them.
"The Card Cutter."
A wave of shivers ran down my spine.
"He used to leave playing cards as a kind of signature on the bodies of his victims. They say he would choose the card based on the person or the method of murder. So, when he was put in cell 11, things got even weirder."
"What happened to him?" I asked, a bittersweet and macabre curiosity in my mouth.
Munford sighed heavily, looking at a fixed point this time.
"A few weeks after being transferred, he was found dead in his cell. Hung with sheets. And next to his body..."
"What was it?" I could barely breathe as I listened.
"A playing card. An ace of spades, if I'm not mistaken. And that cell... well, since then, no one wants to stay there. They say it does something to people, kills them."
The shock of Munford's revelation reverberated in my chest, trembling as I thought about what could happen to Guard Tulley from now on, or worse, what could happen to us.
"So you think this card is... a warning?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, staring into the old man's green eyes.
Munford nodded slowly, responding more to himself than to me.
"I can't say for sure, but it's a possibility to consider."
I swallowed hard.
"What should we do then?"
He fell silent for a moment, as if pondering his words carefully.
"I have no idea. I guess all we can do is keep quiet; we don't want to scare the other inmates. Francis doesn't believe in these things, so I won't waste my time trying to convince him, and I advise you to do the same. Maybe if we just keep pretending that nothing is happening, things will sort themselves out. But remember: whatever this force is, it wants to take you to the cell, wants you to face the eye. Resist those urges, okay?"
The clock struck 12:30. Time for yard time. I walked with Munford to the yard, the sun burning our heads as we stepped outside, futilely trying to erase the worry from our minds.
As I watched the other inmates spreading out across the yard, trying to appear normal, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find Bob, his voice low and threatening.
"What did you tell Francis?" he whispered, he was behind me, and I couldn't see him.
The flesh on my back trembled and twisted, the fluid of fear rising up to my brain.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bob," I replied firmly, trying to sound confident.
He paused for a few seconds.
"You cheat first, and now, you make up lies about what I did or didn't do."
"I think there's a misunderstanding-"
"Shut up!" his voice rose sharply "I'm just here to say that I'm not a kid, I don't go around sending playing card letters or anything like that. I didn't threaten you with that thing, but now I am, and in a very direct way, and if I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open."
He was dead serious, and the threat was as clear as day. But what could I do? Confront Bob directly like Francis? That could mean he wasn't trustworthy... My thoughts were interrupted by the guard watching us.
"You two, no contact!" he shouted.
"No problem here, officer," Bob said, pulling me into a hug that felt more like an attempted chokehold.
I tried to pull away unsuccessfully, and the officer seemed to simply not care.
"Okay, but we'll be watching," he turned away, and Bob shoved me against the yard bars.
"Listen here, Bob," I began, my voice firm, confused about where this courage had even come from. "I don't know what you're up to, but I won't stand still while you try to intimidate me. If you have something to say, then say it like a man. Otherwise, leave me alone." I pushed him away with my hand.
"You're a fool, you know that?" he muttered.
"I'm not looking for trouble, but if you want it, you'll get it. Let's just leave it be, okay? If anything happens to me, I'll make sure some people know and-"
My assailant's hand closed around my neck, tightening. I squirmed, struggling to breathe as I desperately tried to free myself from his grip.
"Going to call daddy? Look, Francis may have that whole attitude, but he won't do anything to me, or any of the guys," he remarked.
I noticed the usual group of big guys who hung around with Francis, they were watching us from afar, seeming to distract the boss.
"He's getting out in two months...but honestly, I don't think I need to wait that long."
I couldn't breathe. Fighting against the grip on my neck, my eyes desperately searched for any help.
"Let him go!" The guard shouted from afar, starting to make his way down the stairs to reach us.
Bob didn't obey. I felt my body losing strength, so I did what I could: I focused my strength into a clenched fist and punched the bastard in the stomach, aiming right at his gut. And judging by his expression, it worked. I saw him lean over, his hands releasing my body and being placed on his belly.
I knew if I let it slide, he would come back and continue to harass me, so that had to be a definitive response to the jerk that I wasn't an easy prey. I lunged at him again, this time with a well-aimed kick to his knee, trying to destabilize him. He staggered backwards with a groan of pain, falling to his knees on the yard ground.
The other prisoners now realized what had happened, and soon their shouts in a circle were audible.
"Go, get him! Don't hold back! Finish this guy off!"
I lunged at Bob, raising my hand time after time to punch him. He didn't take it lightly, grabbing my right hand as I prepared to hit him; I could feel the pressure applied to the joints, my fingers starting to crack, and I could feel them tense, about to break. In desperation, I threw myself onto him with the only weapon I had left: my teeth.
I felt the flesh of his neck between the rows of teeth in my mouth. Without thinking and trying to loosen the grip on my hand, I pressed on the pearly bones harder and harder, feeling them slide against the skin, the metallic taste slowly emerging as the flesh was torn.
The scene around me seemed blurry, as if I were watching everything happen from afar, in slow motion. Bob's scream echoed through the yard, mixing with the encouragement shouts from the other inmates. I felt a mix of adrenaline and horror as my teeth sank into his neck flesh, a strange feeling of power and disgust.
While still hunched over that bloody man, I felt the blows on my back: it was the guards. Their batons striking time after time as the adrenaline rush passed, and I now began to feel the pain. Without resistance, I let myself be pulled away. Bob wasted no time and moved away, stumbling as he covered the wound.
"YOU SCUMBAG, WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?"
As I was being taken away, everything around me seemed blurred, as if I were in a state of stupor. The voices of the other inmates echoed in my ears, mixed with images of the fight that had just occurred. I still felt the blood running through my mouth, dripping lightly onto the ground and forming a trail of red dots marking my path. However, before we left the yard, our warden arrived at the scene, and the guards stopped, my arm uncomfortably twisted behind my body.
"What's going on here?" His voice was calm, but there was an unquestionable tone of authority in his words.
"He... he bit a detainee, sir," one of the guards explained, firmly holding my arm.
The warden looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.
"Why did you do that?"
My mind was spinning, trying to find a coherent explanation for what had happened. I knew it would be useless to tell about Bob's threat, about the playing card, about the fear he had instilled in me. So, I found the most plausible words I could gather:
"He... he provoked me, sir," I murmured, my voice trembling. "I... couldn't take it anymore. He was intimidating me, threatening me, and I... I lost control."
The warden looked at me for a long moment, as if assessing my words. Finally, he sighed, seeming resigned, approaching me with slow, steady steps.
"No, you did that because you're an animal."
He gave me two pats on the cheek, then wiped the blood running from my mouth.
"Take this one to solitary."
The prisoners began to shout, a real noisy commotion. I trembled at the thought of being locked up there. No one came back the same from solitary, but at that moment, I really think I'd prefer to go there than what was to come.
"But sir," one of the guards said, causing the inmates to fall silent in an attempt to hear something, "The solitary is occupied..."
The warden frowned, clearly irritated by the interruption.
"Then take him to cell 11," he ordered, his voice cold and authoritative.
That was the final blow, causing the uproar to become widespread, with even some inmates needing to be subdued with tear gas. I could see as I was pushed, Munford looking at me, a worried and distressed expression on his face; he said something I couldn't understand amidst the noise.
With my heart pounding erratically in my chest and my mind clouded with fear and uncertainty, I was led by the guards towards cell 11. Each step felt like it weighed tons, as if I were walking towards the abyss. I could feel the stares of the other inmates watching the scene, some with expressions of shock, others with a mixture of curiosity and indifference.
Finally, we arrived, and by this point, I was sweating uncontrollably; they opened the cell and threw me inside. My eyes instinctively closed as I fell to the ground. I didn't want to look at it. I got up, still blinding my vision, slowly groping around until I found the bed. I lay on it and turned to the wall beside it, my face as close as possible.
Lying on the hard bed, I could feel my heart beating so loudly that it seemed to echo off the concrete walls around me. Each beat was a pulsating reminder of my situation. I tried to push away the thoughts, but it was like trying to hold back a raging river with bare hands. All the while, I heard stories, heard things about that place, and now I was there, cornered by circumstances beyond my control.
Gradually, I noticed the thick layer of sweat forming around me. I could even feel my pores opening, pouring the water from my body in an attempt to cool myself in that stuffy, hot environment. I couldn't help but think about the heat of the card and... about Francis. He still had the card. Wasn't that dangerous? I fixated on musings about it.
In my feverish frenzy, time seemed to stretch infinitely in that dark cell, minutes dragging on like hours as I struggled to maintain my sanity. Every sound, every shadow was a source of growing anxiety until somehow, I fell into a deep sleep, dreamless this time.
I woke up in the middle of the night, with a faint noise coming from behind the heavy steel door. At first, I feared, wondering what it could be, but as soon as I regained my senses, I remembered where I was, and frankly, nothing outside could be worse. I cautiously approached the source of the sound, trying to listen better, when a "Hey, kid, it's me!" sounded whispered.
"Munford! Munford, I'm glad you're here, knew you wouldn't abandon me."
"Ha, I know, I know," he sounded nervous, perhaps hiding from the guards. "Look, I'd help you out, but I can't get it open from this side, try it there." A small plastic rectangle slid through the door gap. A credit card... I remembered I had done this many times before.
I grabbed the card and started working, carefully sliding it into the lock. Each movement was made with the precision I gained from years of street experience, trying not to make any noise that could attract the guards' attention. My mind was racing, and the tremor it transmitted to my fingers made motor coordination difficult.
Finally, after several minutes of trial and error, I heard a soft click, and the door opened slowly. I could smell the fresh air from the corridor and was already about to smile when, along with the bright light of a flashlight, I saw Bob, now with his neck and shoulder bandaged, along with three more of his cronies. Munford was being held by one, who held an improvised knife to his neck.
"Sorry, kid, they forced me," the old man lamented.
"Not so fast, princess." Bob pushed me inside, onto the floor, and then he entered with one of his cronies, closing the door behind him and illuminating me with the halo of his flashlight.
"What's up, Bob, can't you leave me alone?"
"You wanted to settle things, didn't you? Well..." he pointed to his wound. "You just signed your death warrant! But first, I'm going to make sure to pull out all your teeth and make you swallow them."
He lifted me by the collar of my shirt and landed a punch with his heavy hand. I felt dizzy, seeing stars, curling up into a fetal position. His laughter was now a terrifying melody to me.
"Look at this crybaby. Where did your bravery go?" He kicked my stomach, and I'm sure he found it an ironic poetic justice.
His cohort laughed until the beam of his flashlight shifted away from me.
"Hey Bob, what's that over there?" He said, simultaneously pointing with his finger and the flashlight.
Even though it was on the wall behind me, I knew what it was. I saw Bob straighten up to face it, becoming petrified. He and the other, standing there, mouths agape. I waited for seconds, counting mentally and holding my breath, expecting anything, but nothing. Until suddenly, I began to see small puddles forming under their lower eyelids, dark marks... of blood.
The red tears started to stream down their faces like large crimson waterfalls. Soon, they began to make a noise... a familiar noise, which made my mind freeze as I felt my toes curling inside my shoes and my mouth trembling uncontrollably. It was the same sound as Tulley's. They were now allowing these moans to escape their throats and resonate in the tight concrete walls.
I had to do something. I began slowly to pass by them, trying to edge around. When, however, I was almost reaching the door, I could see their shadows turning slowly in my direction. The tension in the air was palpable, as if it could be cut with a knife. I held myself back from trembling as I tried to maintain composure in front of those men, whose bloodshot eyes were now fixed on me, full of terror and despair.
"What... what's happening?" My voice came out in a trembling whisper, barely able to make myself heard.
Bob and his cohort remained silent. They began to walk towards me, and in desperation, I opened the cell door and slammed it loudly behind me, not caring about attracting the guards' attention. As I looked around, I actually noticed that this was a concern I didn't need to have.
The environment where I was wasn't what I expected, from the prison corridor. It was actually another cell. I stopped for a moment, confused, only to be surprised by a figure in the center of it. A man in a straitjacket looking at me with a petrified smile.
"I've been waiting for you," he said. His voice was blood-curdling, sounding like someone scratching a chalkboard with their nails or scraping a fork on a glass plate.
I tried to open the door but it was stuck. When I turned around again, he was leaning, his face inches from mine, eyes bloodshot. I almost fell backward. He laughed. It was like the last time, he had his mouth covered by a sticky red mass that dripped, probably serving as material for the painting, which now displayed an almost complete surreal eye. He turned and walked to the painting, and then he regurgitated it again. Since his hands were tied, he used his tongue as a brush, finishing the last line of the drawing.
"This," he whispered. "Is my masterpiece."
I was trembling. I had forgotten Munford's advice, and now I found myself petrified, just like the others, staring at the eye. I don't know how much time passed, but I felt like it was hours, days... years. All in the blink of an eye, or rather, in a stare without a single blink.
I tried in vain to regain my composure. Scenes of horror penetrated my mind. Cadavers, bodies marked by playing cards. Criminals, inmates being violently beaten with batons, pepper spray, and all sorts of luxuries the police can serve, I saw gang fights, blood, death, and abuse. I saw people being killed inside the prison. Each scene of violence that each of those who looked had already witnessed. My legs were no more than reeds in the wind now, and I just wanted to run away and scream, cry, and sleep to never wake up again. I tried to scream but the man came to me, placing his foot over my mouth.
"Shhh... you need to see."
He repeated this indefinitely. "need to see, need to see, need to see, need to see"
With superhuman effort, I managed to free myself from the weight of his foot on my mouth, but I could barely articulate coherent words. My voice came out trembling and weak when I finally managed to speak:
"What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?"
He simply continued smiling, as if my words were just another piece in his sadistic game. Then, with a quick and fluid movement, he approached me, so close that I could feel his fetid breath and the metallic smell of blood dripping from his mouth.
"Your mind is a fascinating playground," he murmured, his voice echoing in the claustrophobic space of the cell.
I felt tears running down my cheek, and I knew what color they were. I stood there, in shock, staring at the large painted eye, while my entire being was eaten alive in fear and dread. I don't know how much time passed, maybe the entire age of the universe, eternity, who knows. I woke up on the infirmary bed. Wires connected to my arm while a machine reproduced the "beeps" of my heart.
I looked to the side, seeing the green eyes of nurse Linda looking at me, concerned.
"Are you okay?"
"You need to see," I said, not even wanting to.
She frowned, evidently confused by my response. Linda seemed hesitant, as if she were trying to decide whether to ask more or simply ignore my strange statement. I could see the concern in her eyes, but also a certain curiosity, as if something inside her was intrigued by what I had to say.
"What do you mean by that?" She finally asked, her soft voice echoing in the silence of the infirmary.
I sat up slowly on the bed, feeling a wave of dizziness pass over me. My mind was still cloudy, as if I were struggling to emerge from a deep nightmare. I tried to articulate my words as coherently as possible.
"I... I saw things," I murmured, my voice still trembling. "Terrible things. In the cell... in there... something... something is wrong."
Linda watched me with a serious expression, her green eyes analyzing me carefully. She seemed to understand that something serious had happened, but couldn't fully comprehend what I was trying to communicate.
"Look... you and the others had a collective hallucination in that cell... The director has already arranged for an investigation, but we suspect carbon monoxide poisoning, we've already talked to him about the lack of windows in that place, but it seems he doesn't listen."
I stopped, confused by that information. Was I hallucinating? Well, maybe I would even think that if it weren't for what followed. A man in a dark suit entered. He had a serious and intimidating expression, and he asked Linda to leave.
"Listen here, young man, you're lucky to have come back. The others are catatonic... and probably won't come back to themselves. That's why your cooperation is extremely important, and we need to know: what did you see?"
I stumbled, recounting as much information as I could remember, from Tulley to Bob. The man listened to me without making any expression. After that, he took a radio that was hanging from his blazer and said some words that I didn't quite understand, something like "Ceter," "Queter"... and then he took a clipboard, handing it to me.
"This is your letter of freedom. Our proposal is as follows: We release you from prison and in exchange, you don't open your mouth about the specific events mentioned here," he pointed to the clauses.
That was five years ago, and given my freedom, you must imagine that not everything that happened is transcribed here, but the most important parts are. I ended up visiting Munford a few times after that, and I was horrified to discover that Francis, on the eve of his release, hanged himself with the bedsheet. The old man and I stared at each other after this discovery, in a mutual silent understanding. Shortly after, they closed not only the cell, but our entire pavilion, relocating the inmates. I never saw Munford or any of the others again after that. My nightmares persisted, but in recent months they have been much less frequent, and I think I might be slowly healing.
I wanted to say that this story ends well, with my rehabilitation. A troublesome prisoner full of stories becoming a family man. And it would be, if it weren't for the last 15 minutes of this morning. I believe you may remember that I received a letter this morning like that cursed number. I left it on the counter in the living room while I came here, to have breakfast and finish reporting this to you. When I finished the last paragraph, I went back to the room, but now, it seems like the whole nightmare is back.
I felt the tears, transparent this time, forming in my eyes. In the center of the room right now is Linda, holding the letter, looking at something in it that I can already imagine. She's standing there, wet and red stains on her face, I can hear her whispering "You need to see... need to see," and by God... I can see...
2024.05.13 18:53 edutyngbhv Mindscape - CDPFSUWGMCW 2 YHP. #87
Welcome to... Creating a daily power for Saiki until we get more content or when 2 years have passed. (CDPFSUWGMCW 2 YHP.) #87
Let's start and I hope you like it
[°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°]
Type: Tought-Based
Energy Consumption: Moderate
Threat Level: 7.8
Summary:
Saiki harbors a Mindscape; a mystical internal realm, a cognitive universe nestled within one's consciousness. It's a personalized mental plane shaped by the individual's innermost nature, thoughts, emotions, and memories. This ethereal domain serves as a nexus, a matrix of the mind, woven from the fabric of imagination, beliefs, values, and desires. It's a unique manifestation, a surreal dimension defying the laws of physics, teeming with psychological manifestations that populate its entirety.
The Mindscape can adopt multiple layers of the user’s mentality, being an entire reality that is completely based on the user's mind, with each significant place containing memories and others where the user's imagination reigns
The Minscape is an eternal sanctuary for everything that is part of the user, always under the influence of the users themselves, able to control everything within it, from time, space, reality, gravity, weather and anything they can think of by their will and desire.
The Mindscape tends to be inherent to the internal realm as a manifestation of the users themselves, as these beings are their byproducts, much like their inner beings or specific aspects of themselves that make the internal worlds their homes, even though the user may transcend all internal things. These inner beings can be anything as long as they are related to the user and their desires, such as their benevolence, malevolence, alternative beings, animals, etc., with any characteristics, physiology, abilities that they decide, and all are under their control as they can be created or deleted at any time, understanding their command or circumstances.
In the Mindscape Saiki is the highest authority acting as god of all that is within it. No matter what happens as long as Saiki wishes he can remake, erase, create or materialize his ideas at will.
Among the things Saiki can do are:
All Dreamscape abilities:
Plus:
Inner Training Grounds: As the name suggests Saiki can create training grounds inside the Mindscape.
Mental Presence: When entering the Mindscape, Saiki's mind exists everywhere and anywhere simultaneously.
Mindscape Manipulation: Saiki can manipulate the Mindscape at will which allows him to:
Solipsistic Reality: Saiki passively alters anything that may be related and connected to them (from memory or their knowledge).
Nature of power: As a result, anything associated with Saiki becomes susceptible to manipulation, allowing Saiki to utilize any supernatural ability they possess on objects or entities connected to them
Possible uses:
Subjective Reality: Reality becomes subjective for Saiki as he manipulates the boundary between fantasy and reality (what is and what is not), turning one into the other and blurring the boundary between them.
Regeneration (Absolute - Level III - Narrative High-Godly), Immortality (Type: 3, 4, 5 & 8 Regeneration, Resurrection, Deathless Immortality & Reliant) & Acausality (Type 3 & 4 - Temporal Permanence & Anachronism/Irregular Causality)
submitted by edutyngbhv to PSIkiKusuo [link] [comments]
Let's start and I hope you like it
[°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°][°-°]
Mindscape
Classification: Supernatural Powers, Spatial Powers, Dimensional Powers, Cognitive Powers, Reality Manipulation, Environmental Powers, Mind-Based Powers, Psychic Powers, Conceptual Powers, Almighty Powers, Transportation, Imprisonment Abilities, Materializations, Sealing, Defense Abilities, Existential Powers, Umbrella Powers, Temporal Powers, Omni Powers, Regeneration, Nigh Powers, Transcendent Powers, Plot Powers, Supernatural Powers, Self-Affecting Powers, Void PowersType: Tought-Based
Energy Consumption: Moderate
Threat Level: 7.8
Summary:
Saiki harbors a Mindscape; a mystical internal realm, a cognitive universe nestled within one's consciousness. It's a personalized mental plane shaped by the individual's innermost nature, thoughts, emotions, and memories. This ethereal domain serves as a nexus, a matrix of the mind, woven from the fabric of imagination, beliefs, values, and desires. It's a unique manifestation, a surreal dimension defying the laws of physics, teeming with psychological manifestations that populate its entirety.
The Mindscape can adopt multiple layers of the user’s mentality, being an entire reality that is completely based on the user's mind, with each significant place containing memories and others where the user's imagination reigns
The Minscape is an eternal sanctuary for everything that is part of the user, always under the influence of the users themselves, able to control everything within it, from time, space, reality, gravity, weather and anything they can think of by their will and desire.
The Mindscape tends to be inherent to the internal realm as a manifestation of the users themselves, as these beings are their byproducts, much like their inner beings or specific aspects of themselves that make the internal worlds their homes, even though the user may transcend all internal things. These inner beings can be anything as long as they are related to the user and their desires, such as their benevolence, malevolence, alternative beings, animals, etc., with any characteristics, physiology, abilities that they decide, and all are under their control as they can be created or deleted at any time, understanding their command or circumstances.
In the Mindscape Saiki is the highest authority acting as god of all that is within it. No matter what happens as long as Saiki wishes he can remake, erase, create or materialize his ideas at will.
Among the things Saiki can do are:
All Dreamscape abilities:
Plus:
- Alternative Dream Universe: Saiki can create, shape and manipulate an alternative universe within their dreams. This makes them the omnipotent being of said universe and, therefore, they can bend the world to their will.
Inner Training Grounds: As the name suggests Saiki can create training grounds inside the Mindscape.
Mental Presence: When entering the Mindscape, Saiki's mind exists everywhere and anywhere simultaneously.
Mindscape Manipulation: Saiki can manipulate the Mindscape at will which allows him to:
- Psyche Manipulation: Saiki can manipulate the psyche, the known totality of the mind that acts according to the reality principle and balances conscious and unconscious needs and reality, all of which can contain a person's basic and instinctual needs; ego, it, superego, reflecting the internalization of cultural rules.
- Inner Self: Saiki can create a version of himself to act for him in the Mindscape.
- Akashic Plane Manipulation: Saiki controls the akashic plane of knowledge, one of the seven planes of existence that govern knowledge and everything related to the past, present, and future. This plane, often considered the repository of all knowledge in the universe, is a source of immense informational power.
- This ability grants Saiki extraordinary access to collective knowledge and information from all of existence, providing users with an unprecedented ability to learn and understand whatever they desire. It's akin to possessing perfect intuition, where data and wisdom from all corners of the cosmos are absorbed and seamlessly integrated into one's own understanding.
- With this power, Saiki can essentially extract knowledge from "nothing," much like conventional means of acquiring information. It enables them to instantly become experts in any subject, make intuitive decisions based on the wealth of wisdom, and foresee events and patterns. The akashic plane provides users with the ability to strive for learning and awareness of nearly everything.
- Memory Domain: Saiki can create a world entirely made of his memories, allowing him to access any and all types of memories he has ever had, including those that may have been altered, erased or destroyed, as well as the memories of anyone else within the world.
- Mental Plane Manipulation: Saiki can manipulate the mental plane; which is one of the seven planes of existence, representing the realm of mind, thoughts and consciousness. This plane of thought grants Saiki the ability to delve into the web of mentality that grants control over both his minds and the minds of others, as well as to connect to a realm within his own mindscape or expanded form that was born from the collective unconscious of all who exist.
- Mindscape Materialization: Saiki can bring his own mental world into reality. Changing reality to adapt to Mindscape.
- Mindscape Transportation: Saiki can transport himself or others to the Mindscape. To do this he converts physical matter into thought waves so that the target exists purely on the mental plane/as mental energy.
- Mind Imprisonment: Saiki can trap the subconscious of a being in a Mindscape separated from the original. Or trap the subconscious in the head of another person.
- Symbolism Power: Saiki becomes part of a magical system that provides a special semi-sentient power core, serving as a source of abilities. It analyzes the user and creates an "avatar-like image" representing the user, residing within both the core and the user's mind. Subsequently, the core bestows one or more abilities related to the symbolism of the avatar.
- Mindscape Immunity: Once Saiki is in Mindscape, he automatically becomes immune to any risk that threatens his life.
Solipsistic Reality: Saiki passively alters anything that may be related and connected to them (from memory or their knowledge).
Nature of power: As a result, anything associated with Saiki becomes susceptible to manipulation, allowing Saiki to utilize any supernatural ability they possess on objects or entities connected to them
Possible uses:
- Plot: Passively, they can run a flower shop because the concept of "flowers" is stored in the user's memory, recalling the scent of a Lily they once experienced.
- Redefinition: Passively, they can redefine the word "sentence" to mean "a large oval object that can be cooked (eggs)" because of a past English lesson where the concept of "sentence" was first introduced.
- Psychic: Passively, acquires powers as needed
- Combat-oriented: Passively, they can extinguish fire sent by a fire manipulator, either because they have a friend who is a fire user or because they have faced a fire user before.
- Sympathetic: Passively, they possess a photograph of someone and can manipulate their life and themselves however they wish, without being near them, as long as they still have that photo in their possession in some form.
Subjective Reality: Reality becomes subjective for Saiki as he manipulates the boundary between fantasy and reality (what is and what is not), turning one into the other and blurring the boundary between them.
- Existence Manipulation:Saiki can decide whether something exists or not, manipulate a certain existence and can give existence to certain things, freely manipulate all existing things.
- Dimensiokinesis: Saiki controls at will dimensions or at least dimensional barriers, alternative “spaces” often filled with other worlds, which collectively tend to form multi/omniverses. Being able to create dimensions, manipulate existing dimensions, make a being one-dimensional, create dimensional barriers, trap others in dimensions,
- Meta Space-Time Manipulation: Saiki can manipulate the space-time continuum of every reality, be it a higher dimension, a parallel universe, a dream world, etc. He is able to manipulate, bend, distort, control and alter space-time and the very fabric of reality and existence itself anywhere/anytime and everywhere/anytime according to his desire, even places/history where space-time may not even exist. Including the boundaries that separate different worlds and planes from each other, which can be used to achieve cosmic endeavors. Such as combining timelines, merging worlds and locations, even changing/replacing things between dimensions.
Regeneration (Absolute - Level III - Narrative High-Godly), Immortality (Type: 3, 4, 5 & 8 Regeneration, Resurrection, Deathless Immortality & Reliant) & Acausality (Type 3 & 4 - Temporal Permanence & Anachronism/Irregular Causality)
- When Saiki enters the Mindscape his nature becomes abstract, becoming a non-existent being in the physical plane, idealistic and paradoxical, in a conceptual and informational way, since his nature transmutes until he becomes a being present in the multiverse and at the same time not existing in it.
- Thus Saiki is no longer bound to the cause or affect systems of reality, now operating in its own cause/effect system. At the same time other concepts such as death cease to affect him. Even if he were to die, another version of him from another universe would get his memories and move back to the original universe. So Saiki has an infinity of infinite possible bodies distributed in the multiverse that he can use if he dies.
- Saiki's body is always in a changing state, so even if he were to be erased from history his body would regenerate without further damage. Or in the unlikely event that he dies, he will simply be reborn with all his statistics multiplied by 10e45
Trivia
- The summary is 1536 words so this power surpassed Judgement Control with almost twice as many words.
- The power can cover a total of 43 universes.
- Absolute Version of Dreamscape
- Only other Saikis can damage a Saiki in Mindscape.
- Saiki has so far fought another version of himself who used this power against him. He almost died. Better said... he died but revived.
- The power needs Saiki to remove his limiter.