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jiessicas · 10 months

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07.09.23 & 07.10.23 OOO ⛺🌳🌊

camping is so cool. i want to go back! it was my second time (the last time was 2016 in northern idaho); it feels like a deeply american thing to want to go out into a designated patch of land to live off of as a recreational activity and…. i get the appeal though i hope that the practice can be parlayed into something more communal/integrated into my life in a city (the fantasy of having a tidy, self contained existence…. as a kid i liked how turtles had their homes seemingly wherever they went)

i think about someone who said, only white poets write about animals, and nature (and i get the sentiment), and at the same time, i think i want to build my connection to the natural world, which i never really thought of as a place for me to feel a connection to / to linger within growing up

we traveled through so many climates / terrains, all in one day (huge shout out l, the mvp) — california is incredible and i’m convinced the american dream is to have a little plot and a little chair to sit in the sun within (and maybe a driver’s license and an open road— i just got a reminder to renew mine, though i haven’t used it in the four years i’ve had it)

feel so scattered but maybe that's the whole point; so many new things to take in/process (as is always the case, it seems); so many conversations i'm grateful for this weekend

07.09.23

pretty winged things in your area (encountering beautifly among others on pokemon go)

found another lil grounding tether (signed up for a generative spec fic class in august)

The Week I Had Three Açaí Bowls, The Third Of Which I Regurgitated Into A Trashbag On A Road-trip To Petaluma

hot girls (me) drink like 3 liquids simultaneously (pocari sweat; ginger tea; ?sodium? water) when their stomach isn't cooperating; more being humbled by my body; was a lil more sensitive to car sickness than usual

saw a plushie of three peas in a pod on someone's dashboard

drove through the windows xp hills

gathered treats & supplies at target/tj/sports basement

there was someone at sports basement who set us off with a "have a great camping trip" who had randall park vibes -- it was sweet, and built up this feeling for me of like, living out a second adolescence to do the camping i wasn't really interested in growing up

got to the campsite ~7p; spent the whole time figuring out how to put one (1) stake in the ground while s figured out the rest... "they're like origami shelters" - l

gathering around fires; there was prechopped wood lying around, watching the moss burn was trippy

subsisted (contently) off of baby yogurt pouches and hot dogs/brioche

around the campfire, talked about ghost stories / familial histories; roasted hot dogs; toasted some bread, listened to the frogs ribbit; brushed some earwigs off of our stuff; went to sleep with the cover off to look at the sky

07.10.23

woke up, wandered around, saw some deer crossing the creek by the visitors' center from a couple dozen feet away; we just looked at each other for a while; there seemed to be groups of parents and their fawns? the smallest ones looked like really jumpy puppies when they skittered across

our campsite felt like a cute pop-up small town; there were two kids on a bike, going in circles around the campgrounds, everyone was set up and lounging, almost as if we each had a front porch facing into a shared circle/meadow

we went on a small hike, saw lizards pumping their arms and basking in the sun, really tall dandelions, a tiny observatory that also laid out a hiking trail with the solar system scaled down to their trails; a community science center

microdosing small town america...dropped off our gear and meandered to a town f grew up in, first stopping by a bagel shop they would walk to after school, then ambling through the downtown, where i bought a few poetry books, and then some; it was really sweet to find a book that anthologized poets from the region; it was really special to get to read it on the drive back

in the downtown, there were also especially tall lavender plants and honeybees; we stopped into a shop that sold fossils?! and meteorites?! working theory is that this place is asteroid city in disguise....

walking around a bakery/community garden, i couldn't help but think about how the things we consider utopic often are concerned with just having like, enough to be comfortable -- why can't there be community gardens and green spaces that everyone has access to?

we also stopped by a grocery store to buy stone fruit, pet a cute dog in a bandana, take some funny wes anderson-y pictures; tomales bay for oysters; various scenic lookouts along the pch

++ a really nice conversation with questions prompted by s: what would make sense only for this summer? for these six weeks? what makes it go well? what kinds of installation pieces? what kinds of group projects?

#ooo #hagsooo23 #s23 #log

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writer59january13 · 1 year

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Free association comprises ratiocination...

Bonafide catatonic doggedness,

nevertheless this stubborn stoic poet writ afore and another feeble effort courtesy exhaustive mental effort

he brewed den - brought about divine visit

analogously to solve mystery pinpointing

within suspense unveiling whodunnit.

Whereat your true plane vanilla author's creativity admittedly drastically did decline bawling and crying caterwauling putting any feline,

to shame, hence abandoned grandiose design,

cuz he suddenly contracted (think fabricates)... what else flesh eating bacteria unfavorable sign

finding me body stone cold supine

(courtesy brainstorm that went awry) inducing purgatory nauseating sensation to vomit, nope not at all feeling fine, hence literary dream subsequently mine ambition tanking (think kamikaze nose diving minus parachute life line), sought spiritual guidance ministered severe existential nihilist crisis (an understatement)... zip, absolute zero, and nein never to witness, nor

restored vigor and vitality,

(sob... sob... sob) ha how asinine, hence garden variety germane pine wood coffin evidenced resembling somber funereal yahrzeit (/ˈyärˌtsīt,ˈyôr-/) recollecting late mother helped beget kith and kin of mine, than as now buzzfeeding appetites decline

possibly courtesy bloodily splattered white laboratory coated donned Victor Frankenstein mister monster master's repurposed cadaver delivers kosher eats

fancy feast grubhub groaning

outsize maître d' makes beeline,

nsync with anonymous canine,

corps speedier than any airline,

unbeknownst to yours truly posthumous fame will inevitably yield moonshine.

Fast forward approximately twelve hours later recuperated - aide de camp resolved impasse with partial writer's block slayed

attempting to continue quasi theme i.e. avoid typing with fingers delayed,

albeit no matter unconscious editing automatically peremptorily made

suppressing crude, fiery, ignominious tamed

loathsome offal rot earning F grade securely unceremoniously waylaid lurid outburst blandly diluted into staide

yawningly tedious figurative walled barricade,

when lo and behold atavistic beast erupts

fresh sortie attempts peppering enfilade

anew ideally unadulterated, unedited, unexpurgated material ought be displayed

to allow, enable, and provide raw emotional blackest shade

to resonate within mind of unsuspecting reader,

who might take objection with primitive grade

communication, and blatant scathing writer somewhat afraid to air unrefined sentiments may cost popularity, uncontested where cadre of unseen followers thence evade once popular rising sallying forth star, whose emergent fame (even if only limited edition to cyberspace) will fade,

yet methinks loosing stream of consciousness obeyed

fealty on one metrical foot metaphorically uncorking

deep seated primal angst laid

bare like bleached bones

existential crisis oft times

gussied up to avoid tirade,

whereby woke parlayed

gut wrenching splenetic self degrade

ding soul bearing vile eruption

considerably quieted, stoppered, tamped...

courtesy linkedin, symbiotic maid.

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creatediana · 3 years

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“Last Words” - a haiku written 11/21/2020

#college years #2020 #holorime #haiku #frenglish #franglais #poetry #homophones #word play #micropoetry #poets on tumblr #gif #translation/clarification of the homophones now:#for heaven's sake (c'est que means 'it's that')#i cannot parlay (parler 'to talk')#for long (langue meaning 'tongue' or 'language')#at all anymore (mort 'death')

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fst-critique · 3 years

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Yohji Yamamoto Spring Summer 2022 Ready to Wear

Yamamoto’s universal stance of avoidance to trend-driven fashion refreshes upon a mindset that is surprisingly in tune with the present. Opposed to building on a popular color or print, his ability to remain current circumferences on the duality behind cut and fabric formation. Any work without an underlying meaning to support the idea runs the risk of accepting normality and engaging with life’s most mundane outputs. Balancing this act between craft and purpose is a task requiring a substantial fortitude for capturing an array of focused results that parlay a message of deep sincerity. The impending and near unavoidable dangers of the progressing climate crisis were dear Yohji’s thesis points for his celebratory 40th-year anniversary collection. An issue highlighted often by members of the media and discussed widely throughout the art world, attempting to speak on such an issue when producing a physical product may seem contradictory to most. How so does one solve the riddle between activism and consumption, production and reduction? Here, a literal take on the matter consumes what arose from such contemplation. Strip away collars, sleeves, and shorten hemlines. A sincere yet rudimentary take on an impending crisis, Yamamoto is less action-oriented and more reactionary. For the 78-year-old designer, his approach is one steeped in common sense. As beautiful and mesmerizing as ever, Yohji Yamamoto’s brilliance with permeating on the practical magnified the master’s grand and singular focus for the women he dresses. Decades later, the result is as competent- and progressive- as ever.

Referring to the allotted work as minimal fails to consider the handiwork behind such an achievement. However, a simplistic adjective did follow course throughout the set. Evidenced by the subjective attitude behind the organic dress forms, Yohji states, “I was thinking of global warming, so there were no collars, or sleeves on anything. I cut them off because it’s too hot.” Innocent and pure, a sustained career spanning decades that is as in touch with the times captures a uniqueness all too familiar with Japanese design in general. Beginning the ensemble, guests were invited to engage with many a draped piece. Look three in particular set in motion what would be the collection's key identifiers- unbalanced and differing neck and straplines and a palate as dark as midnight. Always bound and never raw, the slight fold and twist of the fabric highlights the chest, collar bone, and shoulders wonderfully and displays the body as if one were gazing at a pristine Grecian statue. Asymmetry contributed to the passionate affair as sharp angels ousted any notion of familiarity. Forget crew necks, Yamamoto is making a pitch that the 70-degree slope is the hottest line of the season. With each passing look, the momentum of the showing enjoyed the energy of liberation. Black in color, yet deeply freeing, look 7’s wrap top and asymmetrical handkerchief skirt hinted at a woman less covered, and even less vulnerable. Chalk it up to dressing for the climate crisis, though, this notion of latitude is worth noting given just how covered and protective collections of the past have been. Before the abandonment of this distance sets in, a trio of double-breasted trench coats swarms in to offer accommodation for those less open- after all, now 19 months into a global pandemic, not all feel as ready to engage with a freer world just yet. Transparent tops, sleeveless blouses, and straight-cut trousers accommodated dressing for the warmer weather, however, all this talk about meteorology quickly fell silent as an abstraction grasped the audience's view. Spray paint, no, chalk? Perhaps. Plastered seemingly at random across a set of four dresses existed a type of paint-covered piece that walked the line between art and fashion. Genuine and soulful, the silver finish covering the negative space transcends the notion that this fashion is simply just clothing. Rather- as is displayed so meticulously here- the cascading stroke of the material harkens a resemblance to the decaying space around us. As all good poets and their stories do, the interpretation is ultimately left up to the onlooker, yet here, the enlightened must not work as hard to grasp what the dressmaker is alluding to.

Romantic as ever, Yohji Yamamoto placed his latest creation in a field that has little to do with affection. Speaking on the climate crisis for a couple of seasons now has allowed the artist the creative freedom to establish an alternate stance to bringing awareness through creative advocacy. Whereas many a designer may speak on their sustainable efforts through the use of utilizing leftover fabric or the up-cycling of trims in a collection, not one has resolved or highlighted the issue through a cut. Then again, who can light a match to this consistent and highly regarded artisan? Oversimplifying the harsh realities surrounding global warming will do no one any good. It is through such realistic and functional work as this that will draw attention to the importance behind the matter. For this, Yohji Yamamoto deserves respect. The oftentimes misunderstood poet has entered a chapter of activism. Thanks to his exceptional eye and knowledge of engineering, there is little doubt that his voice on the matter will be hushed.

#fultonstcritique #yohji yamamoto #Paris Fashion Week

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impalalord · 5 years

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Tape was found during early reconnaissance mission into damaged ship as part of Operation Rebirth the following is a transcript

[Voice patterns confirmed as Ensign Chang of the HMS Moondragon]

Is this thing on? There we go

Right, this is Ensign David Chang, Ensigns Log 3.16.2185

Pfff, yeah right. As if an Ensign would ever get a personal log. I’ve decided to use my old audio journal as one anyway, incase something happens and we all die. Haha.

You can never be too sure in war. Especially one against some kooky aliens the brainiacs say are called the Konok.

How they decided to call them ‘Konok’ I’ll probably never figure out, it’s not like we’ve ever gotten a communication from them asking if we wanted to parlay over tea and scones. Personally I prefer to just call ‘em bugs like all the other guys.

I’ve got to get back before anyone notices me talking to myself, the last thing I need right now is to be ordered down to the medbay while i’m supposed to be standing watch.

Ensign Chang, signing off.

…

Ensigns Log 3.22.2185

With all of the briefing and all of the safety training you go through before you’re allowed to see a spaceship, it shocks me that they never tell you how truly empty space is.

It’s soul-suckingly empty. I’m staring into the abyss and it’s too dark to tell whether or not it’s staring back at me.

It’s not just the emptiness, it’s menacing. With the Konok on the horizon all you can do is hope that you’re starting at the right black area so that the aliens don’t sneak up on you.

Ensign Chang, part time poet and full time dumbass, signing off.

...

Ensigns Log 3.28.2185

Something changed with the bigwigs upstairs, and ships are being pulled off the outer colonies. The Stargazer left Europa Station yesterday, and Harry, sorry I mean Captain Jensen, says that the Silver Star over at the gas collector stations might be next.

Apparently the politicians decided that their lives back on Earth are more important than the lives of millions of colonists that are about to be killed by the oncoming swarm of xeno bugs.

Dammit. Orders may be orders, but this just doesn’t sit right with me.

This is David, signing off.

...

Ensigns Log 4.6.2185

Well it finally happened, the old Moondragon was pulled back to the Mars Line. We’re all that stands between Earth and the Konok at this point.

Sure Luna base is there too, but it won’t be able to do much against the swarm if six hundred and twelve of the finest warships that ever touched the vacuum of space won’t hold against them.

Whatever happens, I don’t think it’ll end with me going home.

Signing off.

...

Ensigns Log 4.13.2185

[Sounds of battle can be heard in the background, it is presumed that the audio device was accidentally turned on during the fight]

[Voice pattern confirmed as Captain H. A. Jensen of the HMS Moondragon] Red alert! Kowalski! Hard to port!

[unknown voice, presumed to be Comms Officer O'Neill] Orders just came in from Luna Base Captain, full retreat!

[Ensign Chang] Screw the orders! We have a job to do and we’re going to do it! We’ve lost too many people to just give up and roll over without a fight!

[Captain Jensen] Ensign! In any other circumstance I’d have you court martialed on the spot. But we don’t have time to argue. All Guns, prepare to fire on their main ship. If you’re too stupid to know which one that is, it’s the big one currently trying to kill us. Helmsman, prepare for full reverse thrust.

[Chang] Sir, we can’t just run! If we take out the mothership then it’ll all be over.

[Jensen] Dammit Chang! My first priority is to get my people and my ship to safety.

[Chang] If we don’t end this here and now then safety won’t matter, Earth will fall and everything that we fight for will be gone.

[Jensen] I-

[Chang] We don’t have time to think about this, Captain. We need to do the right thing now!

[Jensen] All hands, Red alert. Guns, put everything you have into killing that ship. Engineering, get your asses in gear and keep us moving towards it for as long as possible. May history remember our names and faces as the saviors of Earth!

[Resounding cheers from over the comms]

[Jensen] God help us, we’re actually damaging it. We might be able to win this fight after-

[Unknown] Sir! Hull breach in Sector 12, we’re venting air fast!

[Jensen] Kill that ship! And may God have mercy on the souls that dared to face humanity!

-File placed under Level Black information restriction until further notice. Further research into the history of the Moondragon may be necessary before contact is established

All crew members of the Moondragon are confirmed deceased. All crew members were awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for their bravery and actions that led to the salvation of humanity

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #earth is space australia #space australia #space orcs #humanity #space #humans #moondragon #humans are space horrors

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questionthebox · 3 years

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Poets Diary

i’m going to admit to something, right now i have 6 thousand dollars in my checking account,

now that obviously isn’t alot, eventhough many people may think it is,

but i now have more money, ive ever had, then when i was being a fool and trying to fit into an economic system, that doesn’t provide any opportunities to attain anything,

i have had more money, and a consistency of money, learninig how to save money,

doing things that are in a “grey area” that may come with “penalities”

then when i was working,

when i worked, i lived paycheck to paycheck, because it was impossible to save money,

it was impossible to have enough money, working one of these shitty jobs availiable to people, because of food chiefly, and if you don’t have food stamps, as i didn’t many times, then you know, how if you go to the market, 4 tiems will routinely cost 40 dollars or more, and you’ll be like wtf ?

not to mention utilities, which if you live with people, or your family, if your not pulling your wieight and paying, those other people will just let those bills pile up out of a sense of vindictiveness, i have literally heard people ive lived with be it friend or family, say to me when i was unemployed or couldn’t afford it fully, that why should they pay this certain bill when they have to go out there and work, it was a form of “proletarian resentment” no one wants to work, people only work, because they don’t want to be homeless on the street,

which for years in my poetry i referred to as “homeless in a home” that most people live like homeless people, in a home already, when i worked for the US Cenus last year, you don’t how many homes i encountered where there were 11, 12, 13 people living in one house or apartment, because there’s not enough money in these jobs to afford their own place,

over the past few years, in seeing all that, in going through all that, in going through being sexless, not having things, i just said enough to it, i decided that i would use this brain, to outwit the system, and manipulate it how i can,

its why last month, i could buy three pairs of yeezys that came out to over 600 dollars and not have to worry about it,

i could spend over 1,000 dollars on fixing up my living room, without having to worry about it,

doesn’t mean i’m rich, obviously, doesn’t mean i don’t budget, in fact i plan things more now, and i know how to save money, so well, that its not even an issue,

i wanna parlay this shit, into a small business at some point, selling clothes, because i have a few clothing designs, but again its not like i can walk into a damn bank and get a favorable loan, i have to accumulate the capital in a different way,

#poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #my thoughts #diary #life #leftist

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artstarstv · 5 years

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An interview with Agniya Tolstokulakova

Agniya Tolstokulakova is a freelance illustrator in New York City who brings a bright palette to an otherwise grey, concrete city. She has won awards with the Society of Illustrators and is part of a forthcoming exhibition at Usagi Gallery opening May 23 in Brooklyn.

Her visual style is marked with bold colors, a cartoonish flair and playful patterns. Her content is linked to landscapes, pop culture as well as fashion, and she has illustrated for The Atlantic and other top tier publications.

She won the merit award with 3x3 Magazine and has exhibited at the 7th Annual Madison Avenue Watch Week, the Itsy Bitsy Biennale at Green Kill Gallery. She has also been featured in Ramona Magazine, the Illustrationist and Creative Digest and has designed everything from wrapping paper to jewelry trays. She spoke to us about humor, city vibes and the art of the visual language.

When did you start illustrating and what brought you to New York?

Agniya Tolstokulakova: I have always been artistic and often expressed myself through visual or color associations. So I started drawing when I was 6 or 7-years-old and have not stopped since. My relationship with New York started when I first visited it with my mom in 2012 and immediately fell in love with the city, it also happened that New York is one of the main cities for art, so I decided to come back in 2014, this August we will be celebrating our 5th year anniversary of living in New York.

What defines your style of illustration?

I love textures, patterns just as much as I love flat bright colors. I mix those together to achieve the look I like. I do still refer to myself as a visual poet sometimes, as I believe that art can speak to people regardless of what their language is.

Who do you look up to the most in terms of design and illustration?

I love everything about the work of Maira Kalman. She is an American illustrator and writer, Maira has written and illustrated Eighteen children’s books. the things that catch her eye lead to the most unexpected revelations, she is able to combine humor and tragedy.

What drew you to make a piece featuring David Bowie?

I admire him not only as a musician, but also as an activist who blurred gender roles, helped a lot of people open up and challenged their traditional way of thinking. Although music is considered part of entertainment industry, I believe Bowie’s music contained moving and transformative messages. As a chameleon he was able to parlay his natural theatrical to create characters like aliens, geniuses and Goblin Kings to. He was a brilliant storyteller. I picture him in a look by Japanese designer Kansai Yamamoto from 1973; as I love fashion and it was so fun to draw.

How do you attempt to capture New York unique angles?

Light and shadows can change everything, their elusive quality can transform a scene in just seconds. I strive to convey that sense of place by capturing the atmosphere of it, rather than realistically rendering the composition. New York inspires me endlessly, I love drawing in coffee shops or parks, because it helps me to stay present and still be able to experience.

What draws you to fashion illustration, in what it can capture that photography cannot?

I think while photography is an excellent documenting medium, illustration often offers a point of view and captures the voice of the author, atmosphere, mood and the voice of the artist.

What kinds of clients do you work for and how do you help them get their message across?

I work with a variety of clients from small indie magazine to major news channels. I have just done a piece for The Atlantic about domestic abuse. I think when it comes to getting the message across in editorial world, it’s important to just express your opinion using your creative skills as a visual form of language and try to really connect to the subject matter; create something that you care about and is fun for you. I come from Russia, a country where domestic abuse is decriminalized, so for me it was especially to be able to illustrate that article and raise awareness about this issue. I hope to create more illustrations focusing on social and political issues in the future.

Lastly, what do you have upcoming next?

I am participating in a show at Usagi Gallery in Dumbo, Brooklyn. “New York State of Mind” is a group show that runs from May 23 to June 6 and is curated by Naoko Kuriyama. It’s a beautiful gallery, bookstore and a coffee shop, please come check it out.

#agniya Tolstokulakova

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vonradvintage · 2 years

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An amazing Walker Evans photograph owned by Vonrad Vintage. 5x7 rare unpublished.

Walker Evans is one of the most influential artists of the twentieth century. His elegant, crystal-clear photographs and articulate publications have inspired several generations of artists, from Helen Levitt and Robert Frank to Diane Arbus, Lee Friedlander, and Bernd and Hilla Becher. The progenitor of the documentary tradition in American photography, Evans had the extraordinary ability to see the present as if it were already the past, and to translate that knowledge and historically inflected vision into an enduring art. His principal subject was the vernacular—the indigenous expressions of a people found in roadside stands, cheap cafés (1971.646.35), advertisements (1987.1100.59), simple bedrooms, and small-town main streets. For fifty years, from the late 1920s to the early 1970s, Evans recorded the American scene with the nuance of a poet and the precision of a surgeon, creating an encyclopedic visual catalogue of modern America in the making.

Born in 1903 in St. Louis, Missouri, Evans dabbled with painting as a child, collected picture postcards, and made snapshots of his family and friends with a small Kodak camera. After a year at Williams College, he quit school and moved to New York City, finding work in bookstores and at the New York Public Library, where he could freely indulge his passion for T. S. Eliot, D. H. Lawrence, James Joyce, and e. e. cummings, as well as Charles Baudelaire and Gustave Flaubert. In 1927, after a year in Paris polishing his French and writing short stories and nonfiction essays, Evans returned to New York intent on becoming a writer. However, he also took up the camera and gradually redirected his aesthetic impulses to bring the strategies of literature—lyricism, irony, incisive description, and narrative structure (1972.742.17)—into the medium of photography.

Most of Evans’ early photographs reveal the influence of European modernism, specifically its formalism and emphasis on dynamic graphic structures. But he gradually moved away from this highly aestheticized style to develop his own evocative but more reticent notions of realism, of the spectator’s role, and of the poetic resonance of ordinary subjects. The Depression years of 1935–36 were ones of remarkable productivity and accomplishment for Evans. In June 1935, he accepted a job from the U.S. Department of the Interior to photograph a government-built resettlement community of unemployed coal miners in West Virginia. He quickly parlayed this temporary employment into a full-time position as an “information specialist” in the Resettlement (later Farm Security) Administration, a New Deal agency in the Department of Agriculture

#walker evans #antique clothing #fashion #photography

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amandajoyce118 · 5 years

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Friday Five: Published Because Of NaNoWriMo

November means Inktober is over and NaNoWriMo is here. That’s National Novel Writing Month for those of you who have somehow avoided the term your entire life. This is the month where writers commit to writing a little bit every single day in hopes of finishing a novel length work. It doesn’t necessarily mean someone is writing a novel, but they’ve got to get the length there. It could be a poem a day for the poets - or something to that effect.

And then, they set it aside and do something else for a couple of months. Because February is actually National Editing Month. There you go.

(And just because the term has “national” in it, don’t think it’s only one country that gets in on the action. Writers all over the world participate.)

In honor of the month where writers stress themselves out by trying to hit a 50,000 word count in just 30 days, I thought we’d take a look at what a NaNoWriMo book looks like. There are plenty of published writers who actually participated in NaNoWriMo and saw the fruits of their labor make it to print.

Here are five novels that started out as NaNoWriMo projects. I’ve included their word counts so that all of you participating and wondering how people do it can see it can be done. All of the word counts are courtesy of ReadingLength.Com.

Five: The Night Circus

I’m leading off with this one because it was actually written over three NaNoWriMos. That’s a lot of writing. By Erin Morgenstern, the fantasy follows the rivalry between a pair of magic users and their proteges. I have never read this, even though it’s been recommended to me multiple times, because I just haven’t had the time to sit down and read. I know it’s inspired many a fanfic author to try their hand at fantasy as well. Word Count: 157,380

Four: Water For Elephants

Written by Sara Gruen, this novel also centers around a circus, though not a magical one. I’m not sure what it is about the idea of a circus that catches writers’ interest. Maybe it’s the impermanence of it. Circus performers are always on the move, and as much as the institution changes, it remains the same. Word Count: 99,615

Three: The Lunar Chronicles

This one’s a bit of a cheat because it’s more than one book. Marissa Meyer put her own spin on classic fairy tales with books like Scarlet, Cinder, and Cress. Each of them started out as NaNoWriMo projects. I’ve only read the first, but they’re all set in a world where people might have mechanical parts or magical origins, so the fairy tale elements get a bit of a sci-fi twist to them. Word Counts: Scarlet has 156,160. Cinder has 136,640. Cress has 136,300.

Two: The Beautiful Land

I’d actually not heard of this novel until I went searching for other books written during NaNoWriMo since I personally was only familiar with a few. This is by Alan Averill and it’s described as part sci-fi, part horror, and part love story. I included it because I liked his comment about writing the book. He said, “I think writers just don’t trust themselves enough to realize that first drafts are often much closer to completion than they know… I’d guess that at least 80% of the final draft is in the first draft.” Word Count: 110,105

One: Fangirl

Rainbow Rowell is like the ultimate fangirl herself. She’s parlayed her love for young adult fiction and comic books into actually writing them. Who knew that you could actually have a job you love? In the book, a young woman who spends more time closed off in a fictional world than she does in the real one has to step outside of her comfort zone. I think this is definitely the kind of book that people who actually indulge in fandoms will appreciate. You see the good and the bad of what it means to be a part of a massive fandom. Word Count: 111,360

There are many more written as part of the NaNoWriMo challenge, but I wanted to pick a combination of books I’d read and books I thought represented the challenge well. Also: All of these were best sellers.

Good luck to everyone participating!

#nanowrimo #fangirl #the lunar chronicles #water for elephants #the night circus #the beautiful land #friday five

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atakportal · 6 years

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Loving The Game Of Life

New Post has been published on https://pin.atak.co/loving-the-game-of-life/

Loving The Game Of Life

Product Name: Loving The Game Of Life

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Description:

Are You Ready for an Amazing Journey of Discovery?

What if Albert Einstein was correct when he said “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one…”

and if quantum physicist Fred Alan Wolfe is right when he says “ What we think is true is really an illusion, almost like a magic trick… ”

and if Indian Guru, Sai Baba, is right when he tells us that life is a game, play it!

WOULD THAT CHANGE THE WAY YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE?

Read About Beverly

Hi, I’m Beverly Nadler, author of Loving the Game of Life. When you know who you really are and why you are here, what is meant by “the illusion” and “the game”… and you discover the many “missing pieces” in most personal growth, motivational and spiritual books, you will play the game of life differently — and your life will never be the same! Never!

This fascinating and extremely enjoyable ebook takes you on a journey of discovery! You will read the well-researched material for yourself — from secret ancient wisdom teachings, to Eastern and Western Philosophers, to Mystics and Metaphysics, to Psychology, to Physics and Quantum Physics.

With this knowledge, wisdom and understanding, you will believe, appreciate and experience the deeply hidden truth about your Self and your true Power!

What if who you really are is a non-physical Infinite Being — filled with unlimited Power, Joy, Love, Peace, Abundance, Creativity, Wisdom and Knowledge.

What if John Randolph Price, spiritual researcher and author, is right when he says “ The only problem facing you in life is the belief in separation from your Source.”

What if the purpose of the “game of life” is to hide your Power so you believe you’re the exact opposite of who you really are…and then find it and reclaim your power

What if Buddha spoke the truth when he said “A wise man, recognizing that the world is but an illusion, does not act as if it is real, so he escapes the suffering.”

What if you actually created all the restrictions and limitations in your life in order to play the game the way you wanted to play it

What if you can discover and experience your Divine identity here on earth

What if the Universe is your friend and you are always safe, regardless of outer conditions that appear otherwise.

What if everything you just read is TRUE? Would your life be different? How could it not be?

Here are a few of the remarkable benefits of reading “Loving the Game of Life”

“Beverly Nadler has DONE IT AGAIN! Her great new book “Loving the Game of Life” is one for all ages, as well as one for all sages. It kept me enthralled. Her unique sense of humor and her ability to make the implausible, plausible, is what keeps her one step ahead of all the “self help” gurus out there. Every chapter of this book is a wonderful, mystical learning experience. You cannot fail to change your life when you learn how to play the game she describes. “Loving the Game of Life” is a step by step process in your conscious evolution to fulfill your dreams. Coupled with her book “ Vibrational Harmony,” Beverly gives you what you need to transform your life.”

Warren P. McKenney , CEO, Concept-Therapy Institute, Inc., TX

“We love your book! You are just so clear on the spiritual/metaphysical/quantum dynamics that make up this fantastic play we are all part of. You have once again made plain the marvelous mysteries of our fantastic existence. Your book is a clear guide to how all aspects of life work from the inside out. Like your last book, we will be recommending “Loving the Game of Life” to all our clients, students and friends.”

Paul and Layne Cutright , Relationship Coaches, Authors of “You’re Never Upset for the Reason You Think,” NM

“Beverly Nadler’s descriptions, with detail and clarity, of her journey from modalities that work some of the time to one that can work all the time if you use it, and her insight about how every detail of our lives is created by us, is so earth shaking that this book goes beyond all others in leading us to expansion into “who we are” as infinite Divine Beings.”Daniel Alderfer , lifelong seeker, Const. Engineer, CO

“Beverly Nadler has written a clear, well-written, thought provoking and easy to comprehend treatise that unlocks the key to “the game of life.” You will find her quest to understand the Boardgame Earth one that resonates with your own search to find and reclaim power and expand consciousness.”

Dr. Norma Lent Auerbach , Ph.D , Hypnotherapist and College Professor, NY

“Congratulations, Beverly, for writing such an insightful book that explains and describes “the illusion” and the role we all play in the amazing ‘game of life.’ It is fascinating that your research of ancient teachings and modern science correlates with the interviews in our movie Leap! You’ve even used some of the same quotes, including Einstein’s, that opens our film, “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.” Your book offers readers a roadmap to Leap ! beyond their perceived limits and begin playing full out in the ultimate game that we call life.”

Isaac Allen and Chad Cameron, film-makers, producers of “Leap! the Movie,” CO

Click here to see more testimonials…

Read the Table of Contents and you’ll agree this is the one book that finally addresses the challenges of life in the 3rd dimension, as no other book or teaching has.

LOVING THE GAME OF LIFE —

Discovering Who You Are and Why You Are Here!

Welcome Introduction 1. The Quest 2. From Oneness to Separation Consciousness and the Journey Back 3. The One and the Many 4. Discovering Who You Really Are 5. The Game You Came to Play 6. Rules of “The Game of Life” 7. What Is Consciousness? 8. About the Illusion 9. What Physics and Quantum Physics Teach Us 10. The Holographic Model 11. How Consciousness Expresses 12. Mass Mind Consciousness 13. Duality Rules on the 3 rd Dimension 14. Playing “The Game of Life” – Part 1 15. Playing “The Game of Life” – Part 2 16. The Game as a Play or Movie 17. The People You Came to Play With 18. How You Create Your Life – Part 1 19. How You Create Your Life – Part 2 20. Mind, Brain and Vibrations 21. How Emotions Impact Upon Us 22. What About Our Physical Body? 23. So…Are These Illusions Too? 24. Judgments Hold Patterns in Place 25. May the “Best” Man or Woman Win 26. Affirmations and Mental Imagery 27. Appreciation and Gratitude 28.How Do We Change the Rules Of The Game? 29. What Will Life Be Like in Phase 2? 30. An “Epiphany!” 31. What’s Next? 32. Resources

“The One and the Many” refers to our relationship to the Creator. When you understand the concept of “The One and the Many,” you know that you are never separated from your Source or from anything in the Universe.

This is not a simple concept. You will not “get it” by reading or hearing it a few times, or trying to understand it with your mind. You will get it as it is repeated and reinforced so often that you feel it in your heart. …continue reading

“Beverly has written a book that is most certainly the most thought provoking page-turner I’ve ever read. As a devoted student of hers, I know the level of heart and love that she puts into everything she does. As the world’s foremost authority on the Universal Laws, she’s parlayed her expertise and courageously challenged the teachings in “The Secret”, running with the ball to create this astonishing book. If you’re looking to make quantum leaps in empowering yourself, busting loose from the victim game once and for all, and radically shifting your life, then run, don’t walk, to get this book.”

Andrea Amador, CEC, M.NLP, Body Image Expert, NY

“I Am Impressed!!! Beverly Nadler has exceptional skills in explaining the unexplainable. Her writings are the practical interpretations of so many philosophers, teachers, poets, scholars of the Ages that have a powerful message. This awesome book is the encyclopedia, “The Bible” of life. It is a detailed explanation of the Who, What, Where, and Why of our being, our Infinite Oneness.”

Dr. Skip Skibsted , DC, DICS, MN

“I just completed ‘Loving the Game of Life!’ I feel more expanded and clearer having read about my favorite subject. There was a rush of ecstasy while reading a certain paragraph that describes the 3rd dimensional illusion we mistake for reality. I would tell people that whether you want a more beatific dream and or you want to awaken to lucid living, this book is most useful! Much appreciation to you, Beverly, for playing your role so beautifully.”

Julian D. Christopher, Actor/Drama Coach, Canada

“Here is a book that holds you to each page with the amazing research data that explains our 3 dimensional ‘reality.’ Beverly has the gift of correlating and integrating the metaphysical, physical and spiritual so they are understandable, coherent and applicable. If all readers, one by one, worked with these tested principles, our planet would become whole, elevated and harmonious. We would all be richer for our personal and spiritual growth.”

Constance Sarubbi , Consulting Astrologer and Metaphysical Counselor, NY

Click here to see more testimonials…

Loving The Game of Life is an eBook and is available by Instant Download

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belladonnaandulriched · 3 years

Text

beautiful tragedy | chapter one: splitting hairs

the follow-up to the mirror never lies

Joey’s point of view

I never expected the phone call to be so quick and swift, much less to happen at all. I had overheard them talking about it, for sure, but it was a suggestion. I had taken advantage of the fact that I was the lead singer. I was letting it get to me. Granted, I hadn't been fucking everything in sight, but I knew if the bunch of us were partying like the dickens every night because of me, it would come with a price in the end—especially given the fact Scott actually chucked a TV out the window on the night of his birthday. While Charlie was glad to watch The Price is Right the next morning on Chuck Billy's set, Frankie and I were glad it didn't hit anybody in the head.

I just wanted to have fun. We all did. It only made sense to me that that was the case for us all. There we were, rising in the wake of losing Cliff and parlaying upon the sound Metallica had honed in up to that point. We were running adjacent to each other.

We were “among the living” as we would say. Reaching the top of the proverbial mountain and I was the key master. The guy up front. The man with the mic. The fellow in a state of euphoria.

Charlie even suggested that phrase as the name of the new album and the follow up to Among the Living. He said it was truth, that we were in fact in a state of euphoria, a feeling of being up high, high in the clouds. An unstoppable force that was Anthrax and Joey Belladonna was your man to remember for years to come.

And so after that night, I picked myself out of the bed, took an aspirin, and vowed to never touch a can of booze again. I hated the way it dried out my mouth, too. Dried out my mouth to where I couldn't sing too well.

I also needed to quit doing it so much because it was upsetting my stomach.

I still don't know what the hell overcame me following the accident: Jessica didn't mean shit to me especially when Lars and I started to glean off of each other and put some thought into it. But the damage had done itself in on me. I needed to eat and take better care of myself because too much alky makes the tummy reel in agony, and I don't each so much as a result. In other words, I needed to stop because I wasn't eating, and when I don't eat, I spiral again.

So I thought for sure I was in the clear, especially when we were all on the same page in recording the new record. I had given my voice again to those new songs, “book report songs” as Scott called them. I thought the recording was a bit rushed, but that was just from my perspective, though. I was there to sing and have fun with my band mates: Scott and Charlie took care of the rest.

“Don't worry 'bout it, Joe,” Frankie assured me with a grin on his face.

But I came home to my place the night after following overseeing the mixing process and I had this weird feeling within me. A pit in my stomach and not one from hunger. I couldn't explain it. It was a miracle I could sleep that night, too, because it gnawed away at me like a hungry creature.

I was jarred awake by the phone ringing. I almost rolled right out of my bed to check it out.

“Hello? Wait—Charlie—Charlie—slow down—slow—do you have any idea what time it is?”

The pain in his voice was palpable.

I didn't understand.

“No, Charlie, please—you're splitting hairs,” I told him in hopes to try and console with him. He sniffled real loud.

Either someone died or—

“I'm so sorry, Joey—but we have to let you go.”

It was like the floor fell away from underneath me. I'm still surprised I didn't drop the phone.

“What—” I could barely talk. “What the—fuck—why?”

He didn't reply.

“Charlie,” I said as I felt a lump form in my throat. “Charlie—what—what's going on? Charlie?”

He let out a sob and turned away from the phone. He must've let it hang there because all I could hear was him crying.

“Charlie!” I shouted even though it was five o'clock in the morning and Mrs. Foxworth was probably still asleep. “Charlie!”

Nothing. And then—click. I was met with a dial tone. That was it. That's it.

I'm standing there in my underwear and with a heavy feeling in my chest. Like I just got socked right in the stomach. Shoved into a pile of cement and then they kicked me while I was still down. Buried alive.

I can't do anything other than run into the bathroom. The tears are falling. I don't believe it. I don't want to believe it.

I turn on the light and stand over the sink. I feel so sick. This can't be happening. This can't be true. No. God, please, no.

What did I do!

This is my fault, I know it. I did something and no one is going to tell me. I run some cold water over my face but it's useless. I'm still crying.

And I'm going to be out of money soon. I have just enough to pay my rent for the next couple of months but that's about it. I either have to convince Charlie to let me back in for another try, do my own thing and hope for the best, or be like a regular old schlub and go to work over in Schenectady or someplace that'll take me. Any place that will take me.

Take me from myself.

I had been doing so well in terms of eating: since we believed we were unstoppable, we received big fat paychecks... to us, anyways.

I rebounded from that little starvation episode following the bus accident... somewhat anyways. If you've got even a little Native American in you, you're bound to hit a certain age and let good old Father Time tell you it's good but not without the price of your skin, though. At least that's what happened to my mom.

I just know I'm going to look both young and old until the day I drop dead. My old stone face is starting to show itself, and I'm not even fucking thirty yet.

I turn my head to the side and push my hair back as if I'm checking my ear. There's a little indentation on the side of my face, indicative of either age or my face filling out.

I look straight ahead at myself, right into those bloodshot eyes. My face is filling out: my cheekbones look rounder and my chin is fuller.

I'm going to be out of money soon and my face is filling out.

Yeah, Joey Belladonna is your man to remember for years to come, for sure. He's the singing guy who packed up and left at his peak and turned into a washed up fat fuck with inverted pockets like poor old Elvis. And if I do die, it won't be with dignity like someone like Ian Curtis or Jimmy Morrison. I would just have my voice to play into and nothing tangible like poetry.

I can't even die as a poet.

#beautiful tragedy #beautiful tragedy fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #metallica fanfic #anthrax #metallica #chapter 1 #joey belladonna #joey belladonna fanfic #at land's end #at land’s end series #fan writing #writing #text #also on ao3

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